The More Things Change
by AoifeRua
Summary: In between running ops for the Avengers and searching for his best friend, Steve Rogers found something else that he hadn't realised he needed. Yet, nothing was really that simple, was it? Second in the pair of complementary stories about Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes.
1. Chapter 1

This is the second story in the Captain America/Winter Soldier pair. It would be best to begin the other story ("Marsaxlokk") first, since the current story below assumes knowledge that is presented new in "Marsaxlokk". The other story will eventually merge to complete with this one, as well. However, it is not necessary to read the other to understand this one at all.

Thank you for reading!

* * *

Chapter 1

"Alice, please don't."

Waving her hands excitedly, Alice looked at her friend and said, "Too late. I already told Mike that you would be coming. It is final."

"No, it _isn't_ , since I did not agree. I am really not interested, Alice. Ok? Why won't you listen to me?"

"Because you are a sad, lonely girl with no boyfriend. You need to occasionally leave your apartment without your brother. You really need to have some fun, honey. Most of all, you need to let yourself live a little, ok? You don't have to be so uptight. It isn't 1950 and you're a grown woman. You can kiss a man without waiting for a marriage proposal, you know."

Mary-Claire frowned angrily at her friend, "Ok, listen. I have told you so many times and I'm really tired of explaining. That is just not how I do things, Alice. I am not going to give away kisses to anyone that I don't truly love. I am not going to go on a date just to 'get out of my apartment'. It isn't fun to waste anyone's time like that. If you cannot accept that, well then, you don't really understand me, which is pretty strange since you've known me my whole life."

Rolling her eyes dismissively, Alice teased, "Ugh! You are such a nun. You are wasting your twenties. You always look so sad and tired, so I worry about you. Robert and Glenn are both worried about you, too, you know. You need to go have fun!"

"I do have fun. And Alice, seriously, I am just a regular Catholic, not a nun. I wish you'd let that go. I trust my church to lead me to make a good decision, so I'm going to wait to do things the right way. I'm so incredibly tired of explaining that to you."

"What is one blind date with Mike Auerbach going to matter? You know he has had a major thing for you for two years. He just wants to take you out and show you a good time, honey."

Sounding horrified, Mary-Claire declared, "If that is really true, Alice, if it is true that he has had a crush on me and you agreed to a blind date on my behalf with him then that is just horribly cruel. How could you do that?"

"Mike has made puppy dog eyes at you for ages, silly. You really didn't know?"

Mary-Claire groaned and shook her head. "And now you've just told him that I'd go out with him? Alice! That's…that is just so thoughtless of you. Do you imagine that I'd take advantage of the poor man just for an evening of meaningless entertainment?"

Clearly feeling that her friend was overreacting, Alice said, "He'll just be happy to drag you to some of the places where all his friends are, so they see him with a knockout like you."

"Yes, because that sounds like such fun. No, Alice. You made the date, so you need to call it off. It would be worse for me to go and let him think he is getting a nice date with someone he likes only to realise that I'm not interested at all, bless his heart."

Alice slapped her cup onto the table in front of her. "Ok fine, you caught me. I told him that I'd ask you, but I didn't commit you to anything. However, I wish you would let yourself just have fun. You won't even have one drink. I love you, sugar, and I'm worried about you. You are always way too busy with work and you never, ever go out and have fun."

Getting up from her chair, Mary-Claire replied in a voice full of hurt, "That's funny, Alice, you know? I thought two friends getting together to hang out _was_ having fun. I'm done with this conversation. I think that I'm just going to go home."

Mary-Claire hurried past the chair in which a man was hunched down with a Mets hat pulled too far down his forehead and a cup of coffee frozen midway to his mouth. The man stared as a tall slender redhead raced after the very petite young woman, and was calling out to her friend, "Mary-Claire wait!"

The man, who finally realized that he was still staring in the direction the extraordinarily beautiful young woman had run, sat down his coffee cup and breathed out shakily. He muttered, "Well that was unexpected." Then he got up and wandered out of the coffee shop with his nearly full cup left forgotten on a table.

* * *

"What is wrong with you? You should have had that."

Steve looked Natasha in the eye and replied, "I know. I'm sorry. Let's go again."

Natasha narrowed her eyes and said, "Really? Rogers."

He breathed out forcefully and replied, " _Romanov._ "

"Do you honestly expect me not to be able to read you, Rogers? I would have expected this from Wilson maybe, but not you. Man up."

"As I said, let's go again."

Natasha suddenly came at him with full force and they began sparring aggressively. Nearly twenty minutes later, Natasha stopped and said, "Forget it, Rogers. That's enough."

"Fine."

"I hope you can give better than that when we next get called out, Rogers. That was not even 75%."

Steve shrugged. "Probably not even 50% honestly. Best I got today."

Picking up a knife and a rope that she had dropped, Natasha replied, "Not good enough. Who is she?"

"No idea. I wouldn't even know how to find her again. I haven't even spoken to her."

Startled, Natasha replied, "Well that isn't what I expected."

"Me neither. I'm going to get a shower."

Laughing slightly, Natasha said, "I bet. Sorry, Rogers. You can't go out there like this, you know. You have to find your focus, or you'll be more of a danger to us than a help."

Steve nodded. "I know. It only happened this morning, Natasha. I'll get my mind on track. You don't have to worry."

Raising her eyebrows in response to his admission, Natasha answered, "You're better than this, Rogers."

* * *

He couldn't believe it. Finally, after two weeks of him acting like a stalking creep by coming as often as he could to the coffee shop to look for her, she had finally returned. Steve watched the petite young woman as she waited in the line to place her order. This time he could see her beauty even more clearly and it terrified him. What was he going to say to a girl that looked like that?

Steve laughed internally at himself. He was ridiculous. For days he had subsisted mainly on the hope of just seeing the girl again, but he hadn't actually figured out what to say. How could he be so skilled at strategizing complex battle plans, but not be capable of talking to a girl? He quietly lifted his sketchbook from the table in front of him and mentally chanted, "Don't sit over there. Don't sit over there." However, she sat over on the other side of the coffee shop. Of course, she did.

Steve took off his hat for a moment to rub his hand frustratedly through his hair. He was still that scared little pipsqueak from Brooklyn with no clue how to talk to a woman. No, he wasn't really. He could talk to women in general. He had talked to hundreds during the USO tours. It was not talking to women but talking to a girl. Or perhaps talking to a girl as Steve Rogers, not Captain America. And asking a stunningly beautiful girl on a date: that he had literally never done. He'd even failed spectacularly at it with Peggy.

Pushing away the pain that thought had given him, Steve took a deep breath and tried to glance the girl's way without her noticing. Good heavens, was it possible for a girl to be that beautiful? She was so perfect that it hurt. Suddenly realizing that he was staring, Steve turned his head and flipped the cover of his sketchbook open. He focussed his attention on the paper and began to draw furiously. After a few minutes, he drew so angrily and bitterly that he never noticed when the young woman walked past him to the stand where the coffee fixings were. He was too caught up in his own self-recrimination to realise that she looked down at him as she passed. He didn't even catch on that she purposely looked back at him before she headed for the door of the café. However, when he next looked up and discovered that she had left, Steve was so shocked that he dropped his sketchbook in his lap and looked around for her. He had lost his chance.

He got up from his chair and tucked his sketchbook under his arm. Then he grabbed his coffee cup and drifted out of the shop disconsolately. It was a beautiful sunny day, but he didn't feel very much like enjoying it. Deciding to just get on with it, Steve began walking quickly in the direction of his apartment. He needed the walk, but he wasn't in the mood for people. Who was he kidding? He was never in the mood for people. Anyway, he only had a couple of hours before Sam would be by to look the maps again. He knew where he wanted to go, but he didn't think Sam could afford another month wandering around Eastern Europe yet. He didn't even have a good reason beyond a desperate hunch to go back there. They'd spent everything they had left on North Africa and that had given them only one strange lead in Algiers that didn't pan out. A crazy Russian man with a beautiful redhead in tow didn't exactly sound like Buck on the run and in hiding.

As he hopped up the stairs to his apartment two at a time twenty minutes later, Steve stopped near the top and paused. Then he laughed and said, "I don't know why I don't just give you a key. You're here often enough."

"Well, it would make things easier, man."

"All right. Hold on." Steve fished out his key ring and tossed it to Sam. "Did I get the time wrong?"

"Nah, just heard something."

Steve sobered up quickly and waited until the door to his apartment was shut firmly behind them before he asked, "What is it?"

"You remember the Russian nutjob that doctor in Algiers told us about?"

"Yeah, sure. The one that had a beautiful English wife, who the doctor just couldn't stop talking about."

"Yep, that one. Okay, so there is another report of a Russian up in Canada that makes the crazy Russian dude in Algeria sound tame. And this one had a beautiful girl with him, too. The police report says she was very tall and blond. However, one of them mentioned the girl walked with crutches."

Steve's eyebrows shot up as he said thoughtfully, "Just like the petite redhead."

"Exactly. I don't know. Maybe it's something."

"Yeah, I…I don't know, Sam. I know Bucky had a way with women back then, but it is a little much to expect that he convinced a girl to go on the run with him when he had barely escaped from HYDRA."

"Maybe she is someone he knew from HYDRA?"

"A beautiful girl with crutches? Doesn't sound very like the HYDRA I know, Sam. It's a pretty big stretch. Still, it's a lead. Okay, where in Canada and when?"

"Uh…Thunder Bay. Plus 9 weeks."

Steve frowned as he peered with intense concentration at the map in front of him. "Okay, that's interesting. So, it is before our Algerian lead, which was at…plus 11 weeks."

"Yes. I asked my guy if he could give us any other police reports about crazy Russian guys around that time, especially if they had a pretty girl with them."

"What did he say?"

Sam smiled. "I wouldn't like to shock you. Language, you know."

Steve laughed. "Ok, I guess that is a bit of a broad request."

"My friend reminded me that there is a sizeable Russian mafia throughout Canada. Besides, he's Air Force, not police. He only heard about this guy because his cousin is married to a cop there in Thunder Bay."

"How far a drive is it?"

"Long as hell, man. A day if we drive straight."

"Ah, ok. Well…I guess it doesn't hurt to check it out. What's your schedule next week? Can you do a long weekend or would it better to go next week?"

"I can do it. I already told Brian that I wouldn't be in Monday and maybe Tuesday."

Steve nodded. "You know you don't have to go, right? I know you need this job, Sam. I can do this one alone. It's only Canada."

Sam shrugged. "It's only Canada, so I'm good."

Sighing with relief, Steve replied, "Thanks. You know I appreciate it, Sam. I just don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

"Steve, man, I said it's good."

Gripping his friend's shoulder for a minute, Steve then passed by to go to the kitchen.

"So, did you go to the café again?"

With his hand still stretched towards the cupboard above, Steve paused and looked back. "Yes. She was there this time."

"And?"

"Mission aborted."

Sam made a face. "Ouch."

"Didn't say something before it was too late, so it's my own fault. I don't think I'll go back again though. Coffee?"

"Didn't have enough already?"

"I could use a cup."

"All right. I'll have one too, then. And tonight, we are getting something different for dinner because I am tired of the same 3 options."

Steve laughed lightly. "Ok, you choose then."

"D*** right, I will. You eat like a cross between a college kid and my grandad."

"All right, funny."

* * *

Alice and Mary-Claire sat in silence as they both looked down at their plates. Mary-Claire finally said, "It's ok, Alice. I understand, really."

"It isn't ok, honey. I get so caught up in my plans sometimes that I forget that other people might not want the same things that I would. I've been friends with you for 28 years. I definitely know what is important to you and what your values are. I crossed a line and I need to apologise."

"I know you meant well. I do want to date, of course I do. However, I don't just want a boyfriend or a fun evening. I want to find the right person to marry. That is such a different goal."

"I know, honey, which is how we are totally different. Yet, how are you supposed to find this husband you want so much if you won't even go on a date?"

Mary-Claire replied, "I will go on a date when I find someone that seems like a possibility. I've been on a handful of dates. None of them were right."

"Why? Just because the guys get bowled over by your huge blue eyes and perfect curves? Darling, I'm intimidated by them and I'm a girl. If you hadn't been my best friend since birth, then I would hate you. You walk out of the shower with the most perfect, shiny black hair I've ever seen. I spend a fortune on my red frizz to make it look good. It isn't fair."

"You are super pretty, Alice, and you totally know it. You are an incredible, copper-haired glamazonian. I just barely manage 5'1" in my shoes. You cannot possibly be jealous of me, Alice."

"Well, I am, so get over it. I still love you fiercely and I will admit that I'm pretty hot. Glenn seems to think so, too."

Mary-Claire rolled her eyes. "Glenn cannot form coherent sentences for 5 minutes after you give him a kiss, Alice."

"Well it isn't just the kiss. It is what the kiss promises later."

"Oh Alice. Don't talk about that please. He is my cousin."

Merrily laughing, Alice said, "My darling prudish friend. It is unbelievably satisfying to know that you can bring a powerful, massively arrogant, hugely successful man literally to his knees."

"Alice!"

Alice laughed again. "Sillyhead."

"Poor Glenn."

"You are so cute. One day there will be a guy who is that crazy about you and you will find out how much fun it all is."

"I guess."

"Ok, change of subject. Kind of. Have you even seen any guys you wanted to ask you out?"

Looking transparently evasive, Mary-Claire stammered, "I…um…"

"Oh! Who? Where? When?"

"I don't know who he was, but he was soooo handsome. I sort of thought he was looking at me, but then he started drawing like crazy in his notebook so I don't think he was. But he was…yeah."

"More! Tell me more."

Shrugging a little dismissively, Mary-Claire replied, "I don't know. He was just really good looking, ok? What more do you want me to say?"

"Massively tall? You always like tall ones."

"Every man on the planet is tall compared to me, I think. I don't know if he was tall. Probably. He was sitting down."

Alice eagerly asked, "Artist type? Long hair and broody look?"

"No, no, no. Shortish dark blond hair. Not broody, but intense when he was drawing."

"Ok, sounds interesting. I like intense."

Mary-Claire smiled for a moment. "Blue eyes. Yeah, he was…"

"Wow. You really liked him! Well where was this? Maybe he would go back again and you'd get to meet him."

"Doubtful. It was here. I haven't seen him again."

"Here? Have you asked Melissa? She might know him."

Horrified, Mary-Claire insisted, "No and I absolutely forbid you ever doing so. I don't know a thing about the guy. He was just nice looking. He didn't ask me out and I was right there, so he could have. So that is that."

"Ok, ok. Good point. I'm glad you are actually noticing guys. Sometimes I've wondered if you are so afraid of men that you don't even look."

"I'm not dead. I notice. However, just because a man is good looking doesn't mean he is a good person. That matters 100 times more."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Hey Cap, mind if I ask you something?"

Steve looked up at Sam with surprise. "Not at all. What's on your mind?"

Sam sat down next to him and looked at him seriously. "You ok?"

A flash of annoyance mixed with embarrassment flashed across his face, but Steve only replied, "I'm fine. Thanks, Sam, but I really am ok."

"Yeah? Because you seemed kind of…aggressive. You aren't usually that…"

Absolutely aware what Sam meant, Steve gripped his hands firmly on his knees and forced himself to smile tightly. "Lethal? It was one of those missions, Sam."

"Well, no offence man, but they are always these kinds of missions. You are always hyper focussed, but today you were like a laser point. Was this one particularly personal or is it the, uh, other stuff?"

"Nope. Just HYDRA. For me HYDRA is always personal, Sam." Well aware that he wasn't fooling his friend, Steve sighed and leant his head back against the wall.

"Ok. You can keep it to yourself if you prefer, Steve. I just wanted you to know that you can talk to me if you want, ok?"

Allowing himself a crooked smile at his friend, Steve replied seriously, "I appreciate it, Sam. Genuinely. Thank you."

Sam clapped his hand on Steve's shoulder and replied, "Always, man."

Steve opened his eyes and said seriously, "The same is true for you, Sam. I hope you know that."

"I do, man. Don't worry about it."

As Sam walked back to the front of the jet, Steve heard a soft movement behind him.

"He wasn't wrong, Rogers."

Not turning his head, Steve replied, "I know."

"You don't do angst well, Rogers."

"Never said I did. I'm human, Natasha. It happens."

"Well, don't get me wrong. You were ridiculously efficient today. I approve of how you handled things. I just don't want you destroying yourself. Bitterness is not a good life choice."

"No?" Steve stood up and looked down at her seriously.

Natasha frowned slightly.

Steve shook his head. "Not my first rodeo, Natasha. I will be fine."

Leaning against one of lockers, Natasha thoughtfully considered the man who had just left the dressing room. This was definitely an unexpected development, but not unwelcome. A man with that degree of self-control was a welcome colleague.

* * *

"Okay, so, what about this one?"

"We've been over that one too many times, Sam. I just don't think that there is anything there. And Brazil was that mercenary from Kazakhstan. Djibouti was…"

"Yeah, what was that?"

Nodding, Steve continued, "And Malaysia was, other than a complete waste of time, expensive."

"And a waste of time."

Steve frowned. "Yes. I don't think there are any more leads."

"Lithuania?"

"The guy was 5'5" and blond."

Sam looked startled. "Wow, ok, really? Why don't I remember that? So, nothing more."

"Right. I've tried everywhere we talked about during the war. I even dug through the old letters again yesterday and tried to see what I could find, but it wasn't anything new. You know how I'd kind of hoped for maybe Malta or Greece, since Buck had some ties there in the war, but there just is nothing at either."

"So, we are done?"

Steve looked up at the ceiling for a moment before he answered slowly, "I don't want to say we are done, but we are essentially done for now anyway."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Canada was the last one."

"Well even that was a really long shot, Sam."

"I kind of had hopes for it, Steve. Until that old Ukrainian lady laughed at the idea that your old picture of Bucky looked anything like the crazy dude she'd met."

"Pretty definitive, yes. So, I think we should just keep our ears open for any more leads but take a knee on this for a while."

Sam nodded. "We aren't giving up, man. We'll find him."

Steve shrugged. "If he wants to be found, yes. Otherwise, we might not. Or they might find him first."

"We'll find him, man. In the meantime, are you still sure you want to do this dinner thing?'

Shaking his head, Steve said clearly, "No, but we need to do it. It's for children of Gold Star families, Sam."

"Hey, I'm the one who volunteered us to do it. You don't have to convince me. I just didn't want you to feel obligated."

"It is a privilege to help with this kind of thing. I'm glad you told them we would help, Sam."

* * *

"I'm not going. This looks horrendous. I can't wear this thing, Mary-Claire."

Mary-Claire laughed light-heartedly. "You know that dress fits you perfectly and the colour makes your skin glow. You look perfect."

"Well…I don't know."

"You will be the most beautiful princess at the ball, Cinderella. Just remember to return before the stroke of midnight."

Alice swatted at her friend with the dress hanger. "Well, fine. You've solved another one of my panic attacks. Thank you. What about your dress?"

Mary-Claire shrugged. "It's fine. I'm not worried. You are the one who needs to shine. I got a black dress. I want them to notice you, since it is your charity that they are supporting."

"Well so what? You don't have to take second place to me, darling. You're my right-hand girl tonight."

"I'm just there to support you and to make certain that is everything is legal and above board. That's my superpower. You are the one who can convince these people to write you enormous cheques."

"Yep, I'm pretty awesome."

The two friends collapsed into giggles for a little while before Alice sighed. "I will never, ever understand why you wanted to be a lawyer and of all things an human rights attorney! My extremely conservative, rigid Republican friend working side-by-side with the bleeding hearts. The irony kills me."

"Well I like logic and rules. I like finding answers and researching solutions. Law is neat, organised, and complex enough to interest me. I enjoy it. Also, this is how someone like me can help people. Since I do international law, I don't really interact with domestic civil or human rights attorneys often, since they have a very different focus. Yet we are all working to the same goal, I hope. They do really good, important work. You shouldn't make fun of them."

"If you say so."

Mary-Claire gave her friend a pointed look. "I do say so, dear. They help individuals or sometimes classes of individuals and deal with domestic laws that already exist. Their type of law is more practical and probably helps more people than I ever will. My work at the UN doesn't matter to most people really. However, you know that I could never be anything but an academic with my personality, so this is the most important work someone like me can do. I'm helping to create laws for the future."

Smiling with deep affection at her best friend, Alice patted her on the head. "You are weird."

Her eyes flashing with humour, Mary-Claire replied, "Well we already knew that."

"Fine, ok. Let me see your dress."

"Ok, ok. Hold on." Mary-Claire trotted over to the long pink, monogrammed dress bag and unzipped it.

"Trust you to monogram even that."

Mary-Claire shrugged. "I'm a Southern girl. Tell me you don't have a monogrammed shower curtain and a dozen assorted monogrammed koozies?"

"Ok, busted. Although, Glenn has stamped his initials on far more than I have. Wow, that's going to kill. Put it on!"

Giving her best friend a look that Alice knew very well, Mary-Claire explained, "Not until I've done my hair, Alice. I need to curl it and spray it stupid before I risk a dress."

"I thought you'd already done your hair. It is already curled almost perfectly."

"Well I got a head start at it. You know how long it takes to curl all this hair."

Alice nodded and ran a hand underneath her friend's almost hip length black hair. "It still feels pretty well sprayed to death, honey."

"Finishing touches."

"For a girl who usually does no more than brush it, you are pretty silly about your hair when it comes to formal events. Remember prom?"

Mary-Claire made a frustrated noise and glared at her friend. "Yes, thank you, why do you bring _that_ up?"

"Because it was funny. Two hours."

"Yeah, yeah. How much did you spend on that orange tan?"

Alice giggled. "Oh, I looked hideous. It nearly matched my hair. But if I don't have a bit of colour I look dead. Pale looks great with black hair and blue eyes. It looks sickly and ghostlike with red hair."

"Nonsense. You have perfect skin. Where is my eyelash curler?"

Nearly two hours later, the two best friends were walking arm-in-arm into the large, exquisitely decorated banquet room with Alice's boyfriend arrogantly striding beside his girl. He looked at Alice with sudden, unguarded fondness as she turned towards him unexpectedly and smiled. Whilst he took two glasses of champagne from a server, Glenn shook his head affectionately as the girls laughed together about something. As he passed a glass to Alice, he said gruffly, "I'll find something for you, Mary-Claire."

Alice watched her boyfriend walk off and commented, "He's being very good, isn't he?"

Mary-Claire flushed. "He's always polite to me, Alice."

"Hm, well he'd better be. I told him that if he hopes to ever experience my talents again that he will make sure you are taken care of when I'm busy tonight."

"You know, you shouldn't feel like you have to threaten Glenn all the time. He's a very decent guy underneath his ego. Aunt Lisette taught him beautiful manners and I can entertain myself just fine tonight."

Alice shrugged. "I know Glenn has had a soft spot for you ever since you were born, but it is best to be sure. My boyfriend is a conceited jerk, so he needs a firm hand. Oh no, speaking of conceited jerks…"

"Weasley! How are things?"

Alice's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Irondork. Did we invite you? Because I don't remember approving your name…"

"Nope. I'm Pep's plus one."

"Poor Pepper. I had hoped she had got rid of you finally. Well Stark, since you are here…let me introduce my best friend. Mary-Claire Jefferson please meet Tony Stark."

Mary-Claire nodded politely. "Pleased to meet you. I assume you are Stark Industries then?"

"I dispute how you phrased that, but I own it, if that's what you mean. My beautiful girlfriend is the CEO. So, what do you do, Mary-Claire?"

Mary-Claire replied stiffly, "Nothing thrilling. Attorney."

"Not my biggest fan, huh? That's alright. Join the club. Its president is my girl. Right, Pep?"

The tall, stunning woman who had just walked up to Tony's side shook her head. "No clue what you are talking about, Tony, but I probably don't agree with you whatever it is."

Mary-Claire saw the desperation that Tony almost managed to hide as he replied with boisterous snark, "You rarely do. Let me introduce you. This is Alice's best friend apparently. Mary-Claire Jefferson."

Pepper smiled genuinely. "Pepper Potts. I'm glad to meet you. Alice has mentioned you more than once. I love your dress."

Smiling as well, Mary-Claire replied, "Thank you! Your shoes are gorgeous. How did you find the perfect colour?"

Pepper laughed. "Total luck."

At that moment Glenn returned with a glass of Coke for Mary-Claire and said, "Sorry it took so long. Not many non-alcoholic drinks available."

Mary-Claire looked surprised. "You didn't have to go on a scavenger hunt, Glenn."

Glenn shrugged. "Not a big deal." He put his arm around Alice and greeted both Tony and Pepper, "Hello Stark. Beautiful as always, Pepper. Did you see Wallace is here? Jacka** actually thought I would want to talk to him after what he did."

Tony looked over towards where a short, balding man was digging into the crab dip. "Thanks for the warning. It kills me that the f***ing a****** escaped jail."

Mary-Claire tried not to look shocked, but Pepper noticed and quietly apologised, "My boyfriend has no manners or filter. Not much anyone can do, I'm afraid."

Alice frowned, but replied, "John Wallace is very generous with his deep pockets, Glenn. I have to invite everyone who might help our cause, so suck it up or write me a bigger cheque this year. Excuse me, Stark. Sorry, Pepper." She gave a quick side hug to her best friend and then stomped off with a flounce.

Tony laughed as Glenn watched his girlfriend putting space between her and him, rapidly moving towards another grouping of wealthy donors. "Usually it is me, who steps in it that bad. Better watch out, Northridge."

Glenn glared at Tony and turned to Mary-Claire. "Would you rather sit down? I can take you to your seat or find you a plate of something."

Quite uncomfortable, Mary-Claire shook her head and murmured, "I'm fine, thank you, Glenn. Maybe you should follow her. She's been a little on edge all day."

Glenn shrugged. "She'll get over it. Or not."

Pepper looked between the two of them with confusion and a strange look passed over Tony's face, but Glenn seemed as oblivious as Mary-Claire that their relationship was unclear to others.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Steve hated events like this. He felt like he had a neon sign hanging over his head declaring him Captain America: America's Perfect Hero. He always felt that he was going to let someone down at some point in the evening. Not only did he have to live up to his supposed heroic status at every turn, he had to politely smile at everyone's grandfather's war stories about the Howling Commandos, politely rebuff romantic overtures, politely back whatever cause he had been called to support, and politely but firmly cheerlead the Avengers Initiative whilst apologising politely for whatever flaw an aggrieved patron perceived in the execution of any Avengers' missions. In short, despite being a naturally civil and strictly mannerly man, Steve often left these types of events with an urge to do something very rude or out of character. Of course, he never did. He knew he would regret it instantly. No one held him to a higher standard than he did himself.

He strode in almost angrily but smiled _politely_ at the server that offered him a glass of champagne. He took it absently and pushed through the crowd to find his friend, Sam, who he imagined was probably grazing the food options. On the way he was first waylaid by an elderly gentleman with a story and then a middle-aged woman who seemed to want something specific that he could not figure out. Finally, he reached Sam's side and said tersely, "Anything good?"

Sam turned around and responded, "Uh, shrimp's ok. Champagne is terrible. Don't bother with the wings."

"Thanks. So, when do we have to go up and talk?"

"No idea. That blond lady up there is the one who is in charge of the PR stuff. I'm sure she'll come and get us when it is time."

Steve sighed. He thrust some food on a plate and had just started to blindly shove some in his mouth when he stopped cold. It was a moment before he breathed out slowly and then muttered, "What the hell?"

Sam turned around sharply and followed his friend's gaze. He watched the petite, exceedingly beautiful woman that had captured Steve's attention as she animatedly talked to an elderly lady, and then said seriously, "Wow. Just…wow. That isn't even fair to bring that kind of beauty up in here."

Steve sighed slowly, "Yeah."

"Oh, wait, is this the one that…"

Steve sharply interrupted, "Yes."

Sam clapped his hand on Steve's shoulder. "Well go talk to her, dumba**."

Steve breathed in and out with a shuddering sound. "I've never even met her, Sam."

"So, go meet her. Are you telling me that Captain America has no game?"

"No, I'm saying that Steven Rogers doesn't."

Sam cast an understanding look over his friend and said, "Well that old woman has left her alone now and she doesn't have anything in her hand. Take a glass of champagne over. That's your opening."

Steve stood indecisively for a moment and then snatched the glass that Sam was holding. He stalked over towards the girl, who was standing alone with a small smile on her face as she looked up at the flaming redhead that was standing up on the stage. Just as he approached, she looked in his direction and he saw her deep blue eyes peer uneasily up at him. His sudden burst of confidence sliding away, Steve smiled awkwardly and said, "Hi."

Clearly uncertain about something, the girl answered, "Hello."

"I'm sorry, I'm…am I intruding? I was just hoping to introduce myself."

The girl's eyebrows rose slightly as she flushed bright pink. "No, you aren't. I'm here with my best friend. This is her charity."

"Ah, ok. Good cause."

The girl laughed. "Yes, well, everyone loves children."

Steve smiled. "If they don't, then they're monsters. Steve Rogers."

"Mary-Claire Jefferson. You're the guy in the café who was drawing. I remember you."

Very surprised, but deeply pleased that she had noticed him, Steve nodded with a nervous laugh. "Yes, I'm afraid that was me. I definitely remember you. It would be hard to forget. Speaking of forgetting, I was going to offer you a glass of champagne since you don't have any." He held out a glass awkwardly.

"Thank you that is very kind, but I actually don't drink. I'm sorry."

Steve set the offending glass down on the table and apologised with embarrassment, "Ok, I'm sorry."

"That was very sweet of you to notice. They don't have many non-alcoholic options here, unfortunately. My cousin had to practically hunt down a glass of Coke for me earlier."

"I would be very happy to find you another."

Smiling more genuinely, yet with more embarrassment, Mary-Claire said, "Oh no, I'm fine. Actually, these shoes are evil and I really want to sit down. Do you mind?"

Steve quickly pulled out a chair for her, which won him a shy smile. "Would it be ok if I join you?"

"Oh, I…yes that is fine."

Steve gripped the closest chair so firmly that he could feel the thick metal bending. He then released it rapidly, so he could sit down nervously next to her. "I feel like I am making you uncomfortable, Mary-Claire. I don't want to be one of those guys. I was just hoping to get a chance to talk to you, since I didn't have the guts to come over that day in the coffee shop."

"No, well, I don't mind at all. It's ok. Maybe you could tell me something about yourself?"

Steve frowned. Did she not know who he was? That would be unexpected, since he usually couldn't avoid his public persona at an event like this.

"Well, officially I know who you _are_ , but I mean…perhaps you could talk about you, not the guy with the shield."

Sighing unconsciously with relief as explaining everything would be too uncomfortable, Steve smiled genuinely. "Yeah, I'd like to, that is, if you will tell me a bit about yourself, as well."

* * *

Steve stared at the ceiling and told himself that he was not dreaming; he was awake. He really did have a date. A woman so beautiful he literally could not erase her from his memory had agreed to go to dinner with him. He sighed as he wondered what Old Steve would think of it. He definitely knew what Bucky would have said. He had still needed a friend to help him out, too. Not much had really changed there, had it? He had no idea where he was going to take her or how he was going to make the date a success, but that didn't matter for the moment. It just mattered that she liked him enough to give him a shot.

He had to admit that he was surprised that she seemed so extremely shy. It was unusual for a girl with her extraordinary looks to be so seemingly unconscious of the power her beauty gave her. Yet it had seemed to Steve that she was unaware just how strong an effect she could have on guys like him. And she _definitely_ had an effect, that's for sure. Over the rest of the evening, he noticed no less than three men come up to her after he walked away to rejoin Sam. In fact, she'd been talking to one with whom she had seemed very friendly and comfortable when he and Sam were giving their talk. Steve hoped that she had not just agreed to their date out of politeness or, far worse, because he was Captain America. Perhaps he had misread her, but he didn't think so. It didn't matter. He was going to go for it and hope for the best. Not much had changed here either; he had no right to be so jealous of a girl that wasn't his. Fondue. Just keep repeating that word to himself and he would not forget to be more humble about his assumptions.

Steve swung his legs off the bed and took a deep breath. He had to get up to the facility. They were going to be working on some serious training over the next four days, since Sam was using some of his leave and Barton was coming in. He could use the drive up to clear his head today anyway.

He stood up and looked around his bedroom. He was starting to get used to it. LCD screens, LED lights, wireless connectivity, dishwashers, reliable plumbing, frozen food…It didn't look as foreign as it all had just a few years ago. He didn't feel quite as much like the Frankenstein monster living in a futuristic sci fi film. As he walked over to his closet, Steve admitted to himself that the clothes were definitely more comfortable. That had been the first thing he had embraced. Well, that and microwaves. Those things were really useful.

Pulling a black t-shirt over his head, Steve wondered if he and Sam would get any more leads soon or if he would just go on his own to Croatia. He had a good feeling about Zagreb. It couldn't hurt to check it out at least to mark it off the list. And then he could just do the towns around both Sarajevo and Podgorica for good measure. They had covered that area pretty well before, but he just had a hunch about it. If Bucky wanted to hide, which he obviously was trying extremely hard to do, certain areas of Eastern Europe had less infrastructure and fewer street cameras.

He wandered out to his kitchen and grabbed a box of milk and a new carton of eggs. As he fixed his usual 6-egg omelette with toast, he thought back with a smile to the incredible breakfasts his mother made every Sunday. No matter how tight their money was, she always found a way to make things beautiful. She would have loved to have a kitchen like this though. No leaking icebox, an oven that kept a constant temperature, an electric stove that switched on at a touch…Mother could have had a much easier life here. Tuberculosis could be cured with a few months of drugs. No one here even knew that there used to be such things as TB sanatoriums.

Steve checked his watch and realised that Sam should be waiting for him downstairs. That reminded him: he needed to get another key made.

* * *

"So…what was this guy's name again?"

"Steve."

Alice laughed. "Ok, that's a normal human name. We can work with that. What does he do?"

Mary-Claire hesitated briefly before she replied, "Law enforcement."

"Oh dear, you mean he's a policeman or something?"

"No, not that kind of thing."

Alice sounded annoyed as she said, "Oh not some federal goon. Come on, Mary-Claire."

"Well I like him. And you are always saying that I should go on a date, so why are you going to make a big awful deal of it when I do?"

"I'm sorry, honey. Well do you know where he is taking you?"

Mary-Claire smiled to herself and replied, "Just out to dinner, I think. He didn't mention anything else. I think that will be good, since it will give us plenty of time to talk and learn about each other. I'm going to wear the light pink wool dress, I think. I don't know if I want the matching shoes or not."

"No, no. That is schoolteacher stuff. Wear the dark blue brocade one."

Unconvinced, Mary-Claire made a dismissive noise and asked, "You don't think that is a bit much for a first date?"

"Nope. He's going to pretty much die when he sees you in it and that is the point. You want to grab him from the first second he sees you."

"Well I don't know. I guess. I thought the pink one, since I could wear the matching coat in case we decide to take a walk or something."

Alice confidently swept away any of Mary-Claire's concerns as she insisted, "You have that navy blue and black tweed coat with the huge fox collar. Wear that and you'll be fine."

Surprised, she replied, "Ok, that sounds good actually. If I do that, then I think I want to wear those dark grey metallic flats."

"Yeah, those are very you. They have those puffs, too, so they'll match the coat. Hair all down?"

Mary-Claire considered for a moment and then replied, "Yes, since it's cold and I will need a hat. I think only lightly curled. I just don't have the energy to curl and spray the heck out of it and then go out into the crazy wind."

"You and your hair. I almost feel sorry for this Steve guy. He's going to lose his mind. But that is the point, since you deserve a man who worships you."

Frowning, Mary-Claire decided it was time to shift the conversation. "That reminds me. You were really mean to Glenn, you know. He was pretty embarrassed in front of that Stark guy."

Alice laughed. "Well he can take it. I love him and I get that he's your cousin, darling, but he has an ego that needs the occasional swat. Don't worry about the Irondork anyway. I don't like him at all. He makes Glenn look modest."

Surprised, Mary-Claire thought about Stark and decided that although he did have a large ego, he had seemed kind of fragile and sad. "I didn't actually mind Stark as much as that. Anyway, my brother makes Glenn look modest too, and I hope you wouldn't dismiss him that way either."

"Well Robert is…yeah, Robert's pretty much a world class jerk, but I really like him anyway. I don't know how he does that."

Laughing merrily, Mary-Claire thought of her brother and replied, "Magic awesomeness. I love him to bits, but he really is a bastard."

"Not to you."

"No, never to me and rarely to family or his few friends. However, I've seen him with enough people outside of his 'Protected Circle' to know what he can be like. It isn't much wonder that he and Glenn are best friends, not just cousins."

"Not at all. By the way, when does Robert get back?"

Mary-Claire sighed. "I don't know. I wish he'd hurry up. I asked Glenn yesterday, but he wouldn't firm up a date."

Alice scoffed. "Well, sugar, Robert calls the shots. Glenn is an equal partner on paper, but you know Robert."

"I do. He called me two days ago and I told him that if he didn't come back soon that I was going to move out and change my phone number. He told me that he'd just have security tail me and bring me back. And then he laughed. Ugh. I hate him."

"Well you weren't serious."

Feeling as if she had maybe been at least 20% serious, which was more than usual, Mary-Claire answered, "Yeah. Not completely. I do think about moving out often."

"Like Robert will ever allow that to happen."

Walking into her closet, Mary-Claire stood in front of her shoe cabinet and tried to decide for certain which ones she wanted. Her frustration overflowed as she replied, "Hmm, well, he wouldn't really know what to do if I did. Who would trot along to all those functions with him? Who would boost his confidence and tell him that he is the greatest brother in the world? His fragile little sociopathic ego would die a sad death without me there. Ugh. How are we even related?"

"Your father. He is terrifyingly like your father sometimes."

Mary-Claire seriously replied, "Yes, he is, but with less of the charm and style that Father used to manipulate people with. Do you think Robert would like Rachel? She would meet all those ridiculous standards that he says he has, but she's actually a nice person."

"She is beautiful and has a brain, but I don't know. She isn't a pushover. She would not take any of his cr**, you know?"

Sighing slightly, Mary-Claire answered, "Maybe. I'm just thinking that if I ever get serious about someone that Robert is going to get desperate and probably find a girl in five minutes. It might be smart to introduce him to someone that might be good for him."

"Aren't you the little Machiavellian? I don't know if Rachel is the right one. Maybe I should ask Glenn."

Pulling a dark blue dress off a hanger, Mary-Claire replied sarcastically, "Well this is the first date I've had in a century, so I'm not exactly getting married next week. We have time."

"Well maybe this Steve will be the one."

"Probably not. I mean, he's sweet and quite polite and all that, but I'm not holding my breath."

Alice teased, "Good looking?"

It was a moment before Mary-Claire decided to answer honestly, "Oh yes. Almost a little hard to look at even."

"Wow. Nice. I think that I want to meet this Steve."

"Whatever. I need to hurry up and get ready."

"Take pictures."

Mary-Claire laughed. "Nope. This is just a first date, silly."

"Fine. But I want details instantly."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'll be up. Call me later."

"Maybe. Got to go."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Steve could feel his hands sweating and his heart was racing so painfully that it almost made it hard to breathe. She was ten minutes late. He had been sitting there for thirty minutes now like a fool nursing a drink—wondering how she would look and if he would make a total idiot of himself. Sam had said he shouldn't come that early, but he was afraid he'd get lost or something…better to be early. Except he'd been waiting long enough to think through every single logical (and illogical) reason he could why she might not even show. Now he felt a bit of a sick feeling in his stomach as he realised that he was such a bundle of nerves that if she did even come, that he might not be able to have a coherent conversation. He really didn't remember the last time that he felt this nervous about anything.

He looked up hopefully as he heard the door to the restaurant open and instantly felt his face redden and his ears begin to ring. She was actually more beautiful than he remembered, which should be impossible since he'd dreamt of her nonstop for days. Her jet-black hair contrasted so perfectly with her exquisite, pale skin and bright blue eyes that it was breath-taking. As he advanced towards her, he actually felt a wobble in his knees.

"I'm so sorry that I'm late! I have no excuse. I really should have texted you, so you didn't think I wasn't coming. Have you been waiting very long?"

Steve lied valiantly. "Not at all. Did you want me to help you with your coat?"

Mary-Claire flushed a bit and said, "Oh, thank you."

Steve helped her out of her coat and laid it over his arm before he nodded to the host that they were ready. He held out his arm formally, as he had been taught, but immediately wondered if men even did that anymore and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. However, when Mary-Claire took his arm and looked up shyly at him, his discomfiture turned to pleasure. He smiled gently at her and asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, please. Have you…I mean, have you eaten here very often?"

He shook his head and answered honestly, "Never. It was a recommendation from a friend."

"Oh. Well I suppose we will try it out together then. My brother doesn't like new places, so we usually only go to his favourite few."

Filing away for information the implication that she rarely went out to dinner without her brother, Steve replied, "I don't usually go out anywhere at all, except pizza or burgers. Pretty sad, I guess."

Mary-Claire shook her head and smiled warmly. "Not if you like them. Are you more of a homebody?"

"Definitely. I've always been that way. My best friend used to drag me out, but then or now, I guess I don't always feel comfortable. Even more so now with…everything."

As she settled herself into her chair, Mary-Claire seemed to think for a minute and then responded, "I cannot imagine what that is like. It would have to be deeply unsettling to have all that attention if you aren't a natural extrovert or a narcissist."

Surprised, Steve answered, "It is. I volunteered for this, so I suppose I don't have any right to complain."

"It isn't complaining, Steve. You are just talking about what your life is really like. Anyway, you volunteered because you wanted to be a part of the fight to protect America. You weren't looking for fame or glory. I mean, well, the school books always said so, that is."

Laughing a bit too harshly, Steve then replied seriously, "Well they were right then. It seemed vitally important to be a part of the campaign. It is hard to describe what that time was like. It is very far removed from how it is now."

"I can only imagine. Any of us can only imagine. Even if I were to talk to someone who was living then, they have had all the years in between to adjust. I'm sorry."

Feeling a slight shock, since he had never heard anyone vocalise that before, Steve said, "You don't need to apologise for anything. I'm lucky to be here and alive."

"Would you rather not talk anymore about it? I'm not really sure what would make you uncomfortable and what would just be getting-to-know-you sorts of things."

Steve smiled rather grimly. "I suppose that this is not your usual situation."

"Obviously not. However, I want to make sure you understand me, Steve. I don't have any preconceived notions about who you are. I know what I've read and all that, but those are things you've done. That isn't the whole of who you are, is it? That whole persona is part of you, but not all of you, right?"

Now quite surprised, Steve answered, "Definitely not."

"Then I suppose, I'd rather like you to tell me about the Steve you'd like me to get to know. If that makes sense."

Steve smiled more genuinely. "Only if you tell me more about yourself."

"Oh, well, there really isn't anything very exciting to tell. I'm from Columbia. My family has lived in South Carolina since forever. My sister and her family still live down there, but I moved with my brother up here when he and my cousin brought their business to New York."

"Meaning you have two siblings?"

"Now, yes. I had another brother. Riley. He and I were the closest in age. Robert is 12 years older, Sarabeth is 9 years older. Riley was four years older. After the Air Force Academy, he went super gung ho." She looked up at him with pride as she half-whispered, "They awarded him the Medal posthumously."

Steve regarded her softly for a moment and laid a hand over hers. "You have every right to be proud, Mary-Claire. I knew men like that during the war and whatever they did to earn a Medal of Honour, it was hardly the only act of bravery their fellow Soldiers witnessed."

"Well…well, oh dear, I never tell anyone about Riley. I can't believe that I brought him up not even 15 minutes into our first date. I'm so sorry."

Steve shook his head seriously. "You should never apologise for the pride you have in your brother's sacrifice. Never. I am honoured that you felt comfortable sharing it with me."

"Thank you. Neither Robert nor Sarabeth will speak of it, you know? Riley was the best. Please talk about something or I'm going to cry and that will be awful."

Understanding, Steve lightly squeezed her hand and then pulled his hand back. "Do you like New York?"

"Not really. Oh dear, I forget, you are a native, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. Brooklyn. But my Brooklyn had a major league baseball team and no hipsters. It's changed a lot."

Mary-Claire laughed. "No, you don't strike me as a Williamsburg type. Well…maybe the other Williamsburg. Did you ever go?"

Confused, Steve asked, "Where is that?"

Surprised, Mary-Claire asked excitedly, "Oh, no, you don't know about Williamsburg in Virginia? You absolutely must go. It is wonderful. Williamsburg is a restored colonial Virginia town and you can tour it like you've gone back in time to pre-Revolution. Of course, I like history a lot, so I find it fascinating."

"Sounds very interesting. Do you have a particular era that interests you?"

"I think that I most enjoy reading about any era in my home state, but I am really not limited to even American history. I love learning about how people have lived before and finding out what brought us to today. That helps me more with my work, you know. I need to know the progression and transformation of human rights both here in America and the world. If I don't study history, then my understanding of people is very limited. Since my specialty is international human rights, then it is my duty to have a clear understanding of as much of the world's human condition as I can. That takes up a lot of my leisure time though to spend that much time reading. Luckily, I adore books although I don't read very much fiction and definitely no modern fiction anyway. I prefer PG rated stuff."

Steve nodded. "I hadn't thought about how much of a broad cultural understanding you would need to practice your type of law. It is pretty impressive that you have devoted yourself to that. Frankly, I enjoyed reading before, but I don't have time for any leisure reading now. I have been working my way through the 20th century culture and history books, but that is more for survival than pleasure."

"That probably takes all the fun out of it, especially as you wonder what might have happened if you had lived it along with your contemporaries. I'm sorry, Steve."

"It can't really be changed, so I don't worry about it."

Mary-Claire smiled suddenly and then seemed a bit flustered as she nervously adjusted her silverware.

"Did I say something wrong?"

She shook her head and replied as she fiddled with the end of her butter knife, "No, not at all. I was just thinking how odd it must be to go to the Smithsonian and see yourself there. But then I realised it would be more tragic for you than odd, so I kind of got embarrassed. I'm sorry. It is proving very hard to know what to say."

"I don't really know what to say about it either. I only know of one other person who has been through anything similar and yet his situation is extremely different too, so I'm an anomaly."

Mary-Claire shook her head. "How lonely for you. Are you adjusting yet to the 21st century?"

"Yes. And no. It's a lot, to be honest. I'll get to a place of comfort eventually, I think. I know some good people and have made a very good friend, so that helps. I will find my way."

"I'm sure you will, but it must be a difficult journey. Maybe I should offer for you to ask me things, since I pretty unfairly know more about you than you do me."

Just then the waiter came up and asked, "Are you ready to order?"

Steve smiled at Mary-Claire, who looked puzzled. "Oh…oh should I order my own? Um…the um…ok the saltimbocca alla Romana please."

Also confused, Steve placed his own order and, as soon as the waiter had left, asked, "Would you have preferred me to order? I did not think that was common anymore."

Leaning her head thoughtfully on one hand, Mary-Claire replied, "Well, I suppose it isn't. I'm just used to my brother always ordering. My father always did. It's horribly old-fashioned, isn't it? I actually never thought about it."

Steve smiled. "It would have been normal in my day. However, I purposely tried to learn what would be normal for dating now. I didn't want to annoy you by doing something weird."

Mary-Claire laughed. "Well, you know, I think I won't mind. Whatever feels right to you is probably fine with me. I'm very, very conservative. I should probably be honest with you about that. I'm super old school Catholic."

Steve nodded. "Well I was raised Catholic. There are a lot of things that we know about the universe now that are hard to reconcile with what I learnt as a boy. I'm still in the process of working all that out, Mary-Claire. As for being Catholic or something else, I have been to mass a few times now, but I have no idea what's going on. It hardly looks anything like what I remember. It even feels different, but then I'm different so maybe that is to be expected."

"Yeah, I can only imagine how weird the modern mass must feel like to you. However, that's not the kind of mass I attend. I go to St Agnes, which is traditional."

"I remember ladies with lacy things or hats on their heads, priests who sang the mass in Latin, and lots of old ladies saying rosaries."

"Yep. That's like my church. If you ever feel like going to see if it feels more comfortable then let me know. I would be happy to take you."

Steve tilted his head and replied, "I don't think that I've ever been invited to church by a girl before."

Laughing brightly, she replied, "Well I've never invited a man to church either. I can only imagine what the little grandmas would think if you came anyway."

His small smile disappearing, Steve said, "Captain America goes to mass. Yes, I suppose so."

She gasped slightly. "Well when you put it like that, yeah. That really wasn't what I was thinking though, Steve. I just meant if I showed up with a man at church they'd be shocked."

"Would they really? It doesn't seem like people shock very easily anymore to be honest, Mary-Claire. Everyone keeps to themselves and doesn't notice what anyone is doing anymore. People have no idea what their neighbours' names are. Respect, honour, and decency often don't pass for much. I don't think I can really describe how foreign modern culture feels to me still. Don't get me wrong. So many of the changes are good. Widespread availability of antibiotics. Civil rights. Microwaves."

"Love those microwaves." Mary-Claire giggled.

His eyes smiling as he continued in a deceptively serious tone, "I'm a huge fan. Microwave popcorn is clearly an excellent use of modern scientific knowledge. However, there are too many things that feel like we left something better and more valuable behind."

"Twinkies vs real cake for instance."

Appreciating her attempt to keep things light-hearted, he replied, "Twitter. Incomprehensible to me."

"I've never used it. What's the point? Text, call, or say it to my face."

"Really? You don't use social media?"

"Not even Facebook, since although I love cute animal videos, I don't want to see my second cousin's best friend's nieces' 1st grade teacher's pet hamster."

Steve laughed. "You are an unusual girl, Mary-Claire. I am glad."

With a curious look at Steve that he couldn't quite place, Mary-Claire replied lightly, "Thank you, but I'm not really so different, I'm sure. Not everyone uses Twitter. Even my great-auntie uses Facebook though. On that I'm an exception, I guess. Ok, so tell me 5 things from the 21st century that you would veto if you could."

"Ok, that's a hard one. Well…Taco Bell and anything similar. Whatever that stuff is, it is definitely not food."

"Agreed!"

Steve smiled and said, "Fake cheese in a can. Hideous. Anything obviously fake like that, I suppose."

"Ugh, definitely agree."

He thought for a moment and then declared, "People watching television on their phones."

"I don't understand how they can even see what's happening. It's too small."

Frowning, Steve explained, "Well I'm more bothered by how everyone feels the need to be entertained all the time. Smartphones don't make people very smart in my opinion."

Mary-Claire shrugged. "I like my smartphone, but I don't understand selfies, taking pictures of your food to post online, texting whole conversations, or Candy Crush."

Making a face of complete confusion, Steve asked, "What is Candy Crush?"

"A game you play on your phone. Some people love it, but I think it's boring and it just makes me want to go binge on some SweeTarts or something."

Looking relieved, he asked, "Oh. Ok. What number was I on?"

"I think that was 3."

Now Steve thought again for a while. He remembered something Sam had told him about and said, "Ok, drive through liquor stores."

Shocked, Mary-Claire asked, "Drive through what? Really? People cannot be bothered to get out of their cars to buy their bottle of vodka?"

Steve asked with surprise, "You didn't know about those?"

"No. Of course, South Carolina is _very_ weird when it comes to liquor laws. So where do they have these things? Golly, I can just imagine what my grandmama would have called a drive through liquor store."

He laughed and said, "I know they have them in Louisiana. A friend of mine was stationed there and mentioned it."

"Well that figures. Louisiana is a crazy state. My brother was there for two years and he hated it." Mary-Claire laughed with him and smiled to encourage him further.

Now with firm determination, Steve said, "Nose rings."

Mary-Claire began to giggle so hard that she actually snorted before she replied, "That one definitely qualifies you for the senior citizen discount, Steve, but as it happens I think body piercings are sometimes a bit bizarre. I don't like huge all-over tattoos either."

Steve smiled good naturedly. "But you don't mind smaller ones?"

"No, not if they can be hidden when you wear a shirt. Riley had several of those. He had a Pararescue one, an Air Force one, and one that all of the cadets he was closest to got when they finished up at the Academy."

His heart suddenly skipping a beat, Steve asked seriously, "Your brother was Pararescue?"

Mary-Claire gasped in horror. "Oh my gosh! Steve, you cannot tell anyone that. Promise, promise, promise that you won't repeat that, ok? I can't believe that I did that! That is totally ultra top secret information. Robert would lose his mind if he knew I'd told you. Can you promise you won't tell anyone?"

Steve still was rather shocked. Her brother was…wow. "It is ok, Mary-Claire. As it happens, I know about Pararescue. I have a friend who was part of that unit."

Even more shocked, Mary-Claire gasped. "No, you don't. There are multiple Pararescue units, you know. My brother's was a specialised group." She saw Steve nod and she insisted, "You can't! Really?"

"Yes, I do."

Shaking her head disbelievingly, she insisted, "Steve, are you sure you are talking about the same kind of unit? Super crazy ninja stuff? Not parachutes or planes."

Still wondering how it was possible for such a coincidence to have occurred, Steve numbly replied, "Yes. I know exactly what you mean."

Dazed, Mary-Claire said only. "Wow."

The waiter brought their food and the conversation was paused as everything was arranged and seasoned and then more water poured. Finally, Steve and Mary-Claire were left to themselves and silence continued to reign for another couple of minutes.

Mary-Claire cleared her throat and poked her fork into the pile of gnocchi beside her veal. She didn't raise her eyes as she murmured, "Your friend would have known Riley then."

"Yes."

Steve watched her carefully and saw her body sag as she replied, "I suppose I know who your friend must be then. He works with you now, right? I've seen pictures of him, but it never occurred to me that was a version of their experimental pararescue suit. Only four people ever wore one of those before the programme was scrapped, Steve. I never met him, actually, but Robert has a picture of them in his office. Your friend is Wilson, isn't it?"

Relieved that she had been the one to make the connexion, he said only, "Yes, actually."

"Golly. Actually, do you mind? I think I'm just going to run to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Steve clamoured to stand up as she got up and hurried away from the table. After several minutes, he pulled his phone out with a sigh and looked at the text he got earlier from Sam. He did not relish telling Sam this at all. He shoved it back in his pocket and waited for Mary-Claire to return. When he saw her crossing the restaurant floor, he stood up again and walked around to push in her chair. He could see that she had tried to wash the signs of her tears from her face and frowned sadly. As he returned to his own seat, Mary-Claire said, "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to talk so much about my brother. I am so proud of him, but I'm not at all at peace with it."

He leant across the table, looked into her eyes, and replied gently, "Hey, you don't have to apologise for anything. Not a single thing, ok?"

Mary-Claire awkwardly looked down at her dinner plate and replied, "Thanks. Would you maybe tell me something about you?"

Acquiescing with understanding, Steve said, "Well there isn't a ton to tell. I was born in Brooklyn in 1918. My father died during the Great War when my mother was still pregnant. Mother was wonderful. She was the type of mother that made everything sunshine and flowers. Losing her was…it was tough. Then I went to art school. I had big plans, just like every other 18-year-old kid. The war changed everything for all of us. My best friend, Bucky, was like my brother. There was no better guy. He looked out for me and back then I really needed it. I've never been one to back away from a fight even though back then I never won. Not even once. I even got beat up by a girl in grade school. I was always a bit of a punk when it came to self-preservation."

"Wow, Steve. That is a rough childhood."

Thinking to himself that he had actually tried to tell the most bare-bones, least-depressing version of the story, Steve wondered what she would think if she knew the real details of Brooklyn tenement living in the 20s and 30s. He didn't think that she had ever had to look at a price tag in her life. "Not really. There were lots of people that had it harder. Some things were pretty tough, but I think overall I was really lucky. I had the best mother in the world for 16 years. I had the best friend a guy could ask for. I finally got to serve my country like all the other fellows, which was all I was ever asking for."

Mary-Claire nodded her head and took a deep breath before asking, "And now? Do you feel like you are getting to do that still?"

"Most days I feel good about it. No job is perfect every day, but there aren't many people who can do what I do. It wouldn't be right to refuse to do my part when help is needed."

Smiling genuinely, Mary-Claire replied appreciatively, "Okay, well that's what makes you that guy, isn't it? All the things you could do, Steve, but you do this. Some people would say you've done your part and earned the right to enjoy some time to yourself. You don't seem like the kind of man, who is willing to leave the fight to someone else even if you weren't more capable than others."

Feeling a sensation almost like a punch in the chest, Steve wondered how she had sized him up so quickly, as he replied, "I suppose that I'm not."

"Well if you can make a difference, then you should, Steve. That isn't an easy way to live though, is it?"

"It is the only way I know though." Steve sat back in his chair and watched Mary-Claire for a moment. "My 'job' is pretty unusual. It comes with some major drawbacks, especially for those who know me. The only friend I have made outside of work, Wilson, eventually joined me there. There is an enormous lack of privacy and the security concerns are serious. It is possible that there could even be a safety risk for you. I have to be absolutely upfront with you about all of that. It will affect you personally."

She nodded. "I have already considered all of that. I won't pretend it isn't a bit unnerving."

Trying to keep his expression neutral, Steve replied, "I'm glad you have already thought about it. I definitely don't want to discourage you, but it would be selfish of me to hide the risks and reality from you."

Mary-Claire placed her fork down and pushed back from the table slightly before she replied. "I understand. I thought about this before tonight and it does worry me, but I decided that I would wait and see how our date went. If it didn't go well, then having spent time panicking about it would be a waste. If things did go well, then I would see what you say about all those concerns since you probably have a better idea of it all."

Surprised, Steve replied seriously, "That makes a lot of sense."

"Would you mind very much if we didn't stay to have dessert?" Steve was grateful that, since she was peering down at her hands nervously, Mary-Claire did not see his crushed expression. He did not need to make her more uncomfortable than she already was. By the time that she had looked back up, he had managed to force himself to appear almost neutral. "It might be better not to discuss this stuff here, I mean. I know it's sort of cold out, but maybe we could take a walk or something."

His eyes flashed with hope as he replied seriously, "I would like that very much. Are you sure you won't be too cold though? Your coat doesn't look very warm."

Mary-Claire bit her lip nervously. "Well…I have to admit that I chose it more for looks than warmth, if I'm being honest. I didn't think it would be this cold tonight. I never do think to check the forecast."

Steve nodded to the waiter, as he offered tentatively, "My coat would probably fit over yours if you want it."

"That would look pretty ridiculous wouldn't it? And serve me right for being vain." She laughed merrily, but added, "Thank you, Steve, but you'll be horribly cold without it. I can brave the cold if it isn't too windy."

However, fifteen minutes later, when they stepped outside after Steve helped her on with her coat, Mary-Claire stopped still and looked up at Steve with a look of such horror that it almost made him laugh. "It's gotten much colder, hasn't it?"

Steve began to peel off his coat as he replied, "Yes, and the wind is pretty raw."

"Oh gosh. I think I'm going to die. I might have a blanket in the trunk of my car."

Immediately, he held out his jacket and said, "Just take my coat, Mary-Claire. I don't get cold that easily."

She shivered spastically as she said through gritted teeth, "A polar bear would be cold in this wind, Steve."

Laughing at the way she was shivering, Steve draped his coat around her and said, "Good thing I'm not a polar bear then. Come on, it will be better if we walk."

Mary-Claire immediately relaxed, as the thick leather jacket both blocked the wind and added just enough warmth to make her feel almost comfortable. Steve smiled to see such an immediate reaction of relief. "Southern girls don't do cold well, Steve. You should see Alice. She bundles up in full length fur and still wails about it until Glenn just presses her into his town car and tells her to stop being silly."

Steve quizzically looked down at her as they walked. "You and your best friend are very different, aren't you?"

Her arms crossed over her chest, Mary-Claire replied, "Yes, but we've known each other since birth. Our mamas were best friends. Alice is as crazy as I'm straight-laced. My cousin Glenn thinks she hangs the moon, which is good because she can be a serious handful. She can drive me crazy sometimes, but she would do anything for me and vice versa."

He knowingly nodded. "That isn't very different from how Bucky and me were. I'm glad that you have a friend who cares about you that much."

It was a few moments before she replied thoughtfully, "I've always thought it was weird that she and Glenn ended up together. I never thought he would want someone that wasn't a Barbie doll. He and Robert used to be much more alike."

"Sometimes people change when they realise they don't want to be limited anymore. Perhaps your cousin realised that."

Mary-Claire nodded slowly. "Maybe so. I've always been very close to Glenn. He's much more sensitive than he ever shows people. Anyway, I wish Alice would finally agree to marry him. He's asked her three times, but she says she doesn't want to be tied to anyone. She thinks I'm pretty much the dorkiest, most naïve goody-two-shoes ever. She's probably right, but this is who I am, I guess."

"You shouldn't change who you are, Mary-Claire."

She looked up at him in surprise. "Thank you."

"You are a very special girl."

With a little trill of laughter, Mary-Claire smiled up at him and said, "These sleeves are so long that I can't get my hand out."

Steve stopped and helped her wriggle her left hand out, but as he moved to help her with the other sleeve she stuck out her hand to him. Uncertain at first what she wanted him to do, he finally realised that she was offering to hold hands. Thrilled but surprised, Steve felt a bit of a flush as he took her tiny hand in his before they continued walking.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Well?"

Mary-Claire breathed a happy sigh. "Oh gosh, Alice. He is wonderful."

Alice let out an excited whooping noise before demanding, "Tell me more!"

"He is sweet and kind and very thoughtful. I was so cold that I thought I might die when we walked out of the restaurant planning to take a walk. That's when he took off his coat and wrapped it around me. He must have been frozen solid with that wind, but he never said a thing. We walked for an hour just talking. I even held hands with him. He is so perfect. What if he never calls me and I never see him again?"

Alice laughed. "Don't be a little fool, honey. He will call. But just a moment, you held hands on a first date? You? You must be infatuated."

"It would be impossible not to be. He's seriously perfect and really, really nice because I did something dumb early on. I cried like 15 minutes into the date because of Riley. I just blurted it out, which is weird and unlike me. Then I cried again later about it. And he didn't get freaked out." Mary-Claire gripped her phone and said seriously, "Seriously, Alice, I've never met anyone like him. He's funny, too. Oh my goodness, he has the best manners. And he is so handsome. I feel like I'm 16 and have a crush like that one I had on Jake Tindall once."

Alice's amusement came clearly through the phone as she replied with a snort, "Honey, you sound like it. I'm glad you like the guy and I'm thrilled you finally had a date. However, you can't start planning the wedding yet, dear. This was just a first date."

Making an annoyed sound, Mary-Claire replied, "Well, obviously. But I have to admit that it wasn't like any first date I've ever had before."

"Yep, well you have a great track record. The nephrologist who kept answering his phone during dinner. The fellow lawyer who really just wanted to prove to you how inferior the logic of female attorneys is. The politician who was looking for a gorgeous wife to boost his poll appeal and your money to boost his private fortune."

"I never wanted to go on a second date with any of those men though. Steve is unlike anyone I've ever met, Alice. I definitely know he isn't after my money, which I never can tell with most guys."

Alice cautiously answered, "Well…I hope so, since if he breaks your heart I will have to track him down and hurt him, dear. I wish I'd gotten a chance to talk to him before you had your date, so I would have a feel for what type of guy he is."

"I just hope he calls soon. Really soon."

* * *

"Hey there Steve. So how did it go with the girl?"

Steve sighed. "Hello, Sam."

Sam stood next to his friend and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Woah! D***, was the date that bad?"

His eyebrows raised, Steve answered, "No, it wasn't at all. I definitely will be calling her tomorrow. I need to talk to you about something though. Actually, I need to ask you a few questions."

"About what?" Sam sat down next to Steve, but kept his eyes trained on his friend.

Steve sighed again. "My date's name is Mary-Claire Jefferson. She had a brother Riley, who was Pararescue."

Sam stood back up and mouthed angrily, "F*** it!" He paced back and forth for a moment and then said, "That is NOT possible. Anyway, if she was his sister then she would know that she could never mention to you what he did."

His eyes followed Sam as he said, "I know. She knows that, too. We talked about her family and she mentioned her brother Riley was killed in Afghanistan and awarded the Medal posthumously. Later we talked about tattoos and her dislike of them, except she said she didn't mind her brother's tattoos and proceeded to name them without thinking. Then she realised that she'd slipped up and really freaked out."

Sam watched Steve almost angrily for a moment. Then he asked, "Is she from South Carolina? Family as rich as Midas? Older brother who is a total a**hole?"

"Yes. Robert. She lives with him here."

Sam shook his head. "I can't deal with this, Steve. S***."

"I only mentioned that I have a friend who is former Pararescue, but I didn't mention your name. She figured it out though. You see, she knows about the suit. She said there were only four people who ever wore it and realised you must be the Falcon."

Sam frowned. "Well, she would know my name, Steve. I never got to meet her, since she was off at law school, but I know Riley would have mentioned me."

Steve calmly replied, "I didn't tell her more, Sam."

"Might as well tell her."

First placing his hand on Sam's shoulder, Steve said, "If you want me to then I will, but it might be better coming from you. However, she is far from over his death. I don't know how she would take it. Might be good for you both though if you ever want to meet her."

"Of course, I would want to meet Riley's sister, Steve."

Steve nodded with understanding. "Ok. When I think the time is right then I will mention it."

"You are that sure you are going to see her again?"

"Definitely."

Sam watched Steve for a moment and then said, "I'm glad. It is about d*** time you met someone, Steve. I just can't believe that my best friend is dating my old partner's sister."

Steve looked up in surprise at Sam's description of them but smiled slowly as he realised that Sam was not wrong.

* * *

"Not you, too, Tony. Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I'm really not interested."

"Come on, Cap. It will be fun. You, me, Pep, and Pep's friend. Dinner, that's all I ask."

"I'm busy."

"You don't even know when."

With a pointed look at his friend, Steve said seriously, "It doesn't matter. I would be busy that night."

Sam caught up with them and handed Steve his phone. "You left it again."

Steve looked down at the screen and made a sound of annoyance.

Tony gestured to the phone and said incredulously, "A real genuine cell phone, Steve? Next thing we know you'll be learning all about the Interwebs and embracing this new century."

"I needed a phone, Tony. That's all."

"Sure you did. And of course you would get an ancient flip phone, but, you know, it's a step. So, no double date, huh? Well, I promised Pepper that I'd ask. Apparently, her friend has a _strong_ interest, shall we say. I wouldn't want to take you away from your solitude."

Steve sighed. "Thank you, Tony. However, I really can find my own dates."

Sam frowned and gestured to Steve, who shook his head.

Tony asked with interest, "What's this? What did I miss?"

"As I said, Tony, I am capable of getting my own dates. I'll finish my part of the paperwork at home and email it in, ok? Is that 21st century enough for you?

Tony tilted his head and said, "It's a start, old man."

Steve shook his head. "All right, Tony. I think I'll be back up here on Tuesday if that works."

"Ok, I get it, keep your secrets. I'll see you Tuesday, but I probably won't have done my paperwork. No reason for us both to be so responsible."

Sam and Steve hurried down the stairs and outside to where Sam's car was waiting for them. As soon as they were in the car, Sam asked, "Are you planning on keeping your relationship a total secret, Steve?"

"For now. I have a feeling that will end up being the best play in the end. I would prefer to keep Mary-Claire entirely out of the public eye for her safety."

Sam asked seriously, "What does she think of that?"

"She is a very shy, private girl. She isn't dating me to be seen with Captain America, so publicity is not her thing either."

"She knows you aren't telling any of your closest friends? Other than me, of course."

"Yes. I did talk to her about it last week. I don't want her to think I'm embarrassed of her, Sam. She understood."

Sam looked as if he didn't quite believe Steve's naiveté, but shrugged. "I do agree about Stark. The guy means well, but he has no filter. He'll mention it to someone as a joke and it will go downhill from there."

"I like Tony, Sam. He's a good friend."

"I guess. Alright, ok, he's a good guy most of the time. However, he's extremely unpredictable and completely driven by his fears, which is dangerous. Ultron. I'm just saying."

"I know. He has a good instinct, Sam, he just makes rash decisions sometimes."

Sam looked sideways at his friend and said seriously, "Buddy, that is a pretty monumental understatement. I don't really trust him. I mean, I'm glad to be asked to join the Avengers on salary this time. I'm sure my landlady will be very relieved that she won't have to worry about late rent. It also makes taking leave and all that s*** to look for 'our friend' that much easier, if you know what I mean."

"I do and I'm sorry about your last job, Sam."

"It isn't your fault, Steve. Anyway, I liked working at the VA and they say I can go back there if I need it, but I think I have moved on, you know? Just don't send me to Bulgaria _ever_ _again_."

Steve laughed. "Ok, I won't. We are so late."

Sam looked down at the dashboard clock and replied, "Yeah, more than a little bit."

* * *

"Miss Jefferson, there is a Mr Walter Bryce on the phone calling from Johannesburg?"

Mary-Claire looked up at her assistant and said with exhaustion, "Really? I called him over two weeks ago. I don't really need to talk to him now. Why don't you take a message for me and let him know that I will contact him when I have a moment?'

Bernice smiled conspiratorially at her boss and asked, "Did you want me to send him to Zúñiga?"

"Oh gosh no. Zúñiga can't handle a worm like Bryce. I already talked to Justice Prydz about the issue, so I'm not sure what Bryce can offer me. After you are done with that, Bernice, I really need the physical file on the Sokovia incident, ok?"

"Sokovia? But isn't Carvalho handling that?"

"Yes, so you will have to be very clever as only you know how. I need that folder."

Her eyes popped open and Bernice dropped her voice as she asked, "Oooh, are we going to move in on Carvalho?"

Mary-Claire shook her head and replied with unusual firmness, "No, no. He is welcome to all the craziness that is coming from that incident. I just need to look through whatever is in that file for about an hour. If I am on the phone when you get back, just drop it in my lock box. This is extremely hush, ok?"

"Yes, ma'am. You know you can rely on me!"

"Yes, I do, Bernice. I need to talk to Onwuatuegwu this afternoon after my appointment. She is expecting you to set it up with her assistant, so maybe at 4?"

"The Carlyle?"

Mary-Claire sighed and replied, "Do I take tea anywhere else, Bernice? Ok, go ahead. Carvalho takes the longest lunches of anyone I know, so he should still be out. I'm going to call Tajedinne now, ok? He and I are supposed to have that meeting with Justice Prydz tomorrow, but I think that isn't going to happen."

Bernice nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I will hurry back when I have the file. Do I call Mr Tajedinne's assistant yet or do I wait?"

"Wait. That man is a pest. Let's avoid him if we can."

As soon as her assistant left the room, Mary-Claire lifted the paper that she had quickly shoved to cover her personal tablet. The document on there was deeply, horribly unsettling. She was going to have to consider how she handled the situation. It was all privileged information.

If Bernice didn't hurry with that file, then she would end up being late for her appointment with Dr Gampeghi. She knew she needed to finally mention her relationship with Steve, which she was sure Dr Gampeghi would have a lot to say about, and she definitely needed to see if there was a medication change necessary. There had been five panic attacks in the last month, as well as an 'event' when she was jostled by a crowd surge on the way down to the bakery up the street. She needed to get a handle on her anxiety, since things didn't look to be calming down at all in her life.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Mary-Claire slammed the phone down and snatched up the lock box that Bernice had run in to her five minutes before. Quickly inputting the combination into the lock, she pulled out the thick folder and began rapidly flipping through the contents. As soon as she came to a few pictures, she stopped cold. Her perusal became more slow and serious. Then she pulled out a document and started reading intently. Of course, he was involved in that. She was incredibly clueless not to have figured that out. This was going to be so difficult. She could not tell Steve a thing, but he should really know.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"So, what are we doing today?"

Steve smiled down at Mary-Claire. "You said you wanted to go to the Morgan Museum. So that's the plan."

"Oh, that's awesome, Steve! I've been wanting to go ever since we moved here. However, Robert hates that stuff and Alice is too impatient to look at books in a museum."

Taking her small hand in his, Steve replied, "Well I am looking forward to it, too. They have something that I particularly want to see."

"What is it?"

"Have to wait and see."

Mary-Claire allowed herself to be bundled into the taxi and waited for Steve to slide in next to her. "You are purposely being mean."

"Yep. I'm a pretty bad guy, Mary-Claire."

She laughed merrily but stole a little glance up at him afterwards and saw that he was watching her carefully. "Are we going to eat though?"

Now Steve laughed openly. "Yes. I know you won't be able to concentrate if we don't. How does such a slender thing like you manage to eat like you do?"

"Years of practice and luck. Poor Alice can't even eat five bites of ice-cream without gaining a pound. Robert says that I love good food more than I do some people. He might not even be wrong. You shouldn't make any comments about appetite though, Steve. You actually ate 8 doughnuts last Saturday. We needed an entire pizza just for you a few weeks ago. And you ate the remaining slices of mine. I've never seen anyone eat like you before. It's kind of awesome. Now, where are we going for lunch?"

Steve had wondered when she was going to comment about the outrageous caloric intake his body needed. Oddly, it did not seem to bother her like it did some. She just took all his post-serum quirks in stride in such a comfortable way that he never felt like a specimen to her. He kept his expression very blank as he said only, "Wait and see."

Mary-Claire narrowed her eyes and said, "Ok, you are really pushing your luck, Steven Rogers."

He allowed himself a smile now. "Am I?"

"Yes. I'm hungry." She bit her lip and then looked up at him with an expression of such pleading that he laughed out loud.

He squeezed the petite hand that was wrapped up tightly in his. "What if I promise that you will like it?"

"How do you know?"

He let himself look down at her again. "Because we've been there and it's close."

Suddenly her eyes popped wide and she exclaimed, "Oh, really? Yay!"

"Figured it out?"

She nodded. "Yes. You are super good at knowing what I like."

Steve shrugged. "If I don't know what my girl likes after three months of going out then I'm a pretty horrible date."

She leant into his shoulder a little and looked up at him again. "I think that you are the best boyfriend in the world. Those peonies are still super fresh and absolutely beautiful, you know. Robert glares at them every time he passes through, which always makes me laugh at him."

Startled at being called her boyfriend, since she had never done so before, Steve couldn't keep a wide smile from spreading across his face. "Should I send more?"

"Only if you want Robert to get very grouchy. He is such a curmudgeon lately."

Steve's voice dropped somewhat as he answered seriously, "I don't think that I care very much what Robert thinks, except inasmuch as it affects you."

"Oh, don't worry. Robert is just jealous of you, you know?"

Steve tightened his grip on her hand as he looked apologetically down at her. She didn't seem to notice, as she continued to explain, "I used to give him all my attention and was always available whenever he wanted to do something. Now all I talk about is you—I'm probably really annoying about it—and I'm often not available when he wants me to be, since I'm with you. He doesn't actually dislike you, Steve."

Steve drew his eyebrows together in consternation. He felt that Mary-Claire's relationship with her oldest sibling was fairly unhealthy. It bothered him how much control Robert had over her. It also concerned him that he felt some fairly serious jealousy towards Robert, which was not right. "I don't want to cause trouble for you."

Mary-Claire laughed. "Well what is he going to do? He won't actually tell me to stop seeing you, since he knows I'd just ignore him. He can try to dictate anything else he wants, but I will choose who I see and who I don't. Besides, he grudgingly admitted to me a few weeks ago that he provisionally likes you. Robert really doesn't like many people either."

Gripping her hand more firmly, Steve leant over to say in her ear, "I'm glad that you are choosing to date me. I think the world of you, Mary-Claire."

Turning starry eyes up at him, Mary-Claire stammered, "I-I…thank you?"

Steve touched his hand to her cheek briefly and said only, "You're welcome."

* * *

"Soooo…how's it going with the girl?"

Steve glanced to the side and gave Sam a pointed look.

Unintimidated as usual, Sam just laughed. "Don't think that's going to stop me from asking, man. I had lunch with Robert last Thursday."

Very surprised and suddenly quite uneasy, Steve said, "I didn't think you had a good relationship with Robert."

Shrugging as if this was irrelevant, Sam said, "No, I don't, but apparently Robert wanted to make sure you were the man for the job, so to speak. I always assumed that Riley was the brother with all the overprotective boundary issues when it came to Mary-Claire, but holy s*** Robert is like a cross between a pit bull and a dragon when it comes to that girl."

His posture suddenly very stiff, Steve asked with a very stern look, "So he thinks I'm not good enough for her? Is that what you are saying, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "No, not really. I think he just wants to be sure. You seem to have already impressed him positively. I just did what I could to encourage that opinion. I didn't have to do much other than be honest."

Steve wiped his face with both hands and then said, "Thank you, Sam, but you shouldn't be put in that position. I don't want you to have to defend me. I can stand on my own two feet in this."

"I know you can. Robert called me, not the other way around. I wasn't looking to get involved. However, I'm not going to refuse to meet with the guy."

"Thank you, Sam. It is time for me to talk to Robert myself anyway."

Offering Steve another bottle of beer, which he refused, Sam then asked incredulously, "Steve, man, already?"

Steve leant back into the sofa cushion. "Yep."

"You do know that most people these days wait at least a year, right?"

"I've waited five months longer than I needed."

Sam just shook his head. "D*** it, dude. You've only been dating her five months. What about her?"

"No, she's definitely not ready. However, I will talk to Robert anyway. When the time is right, I'll have already asked."

"You are something else, Steve. Romanov and Stark are both riding your a** about moving on and finding a date for longer than I've known you. Then you suddenly find _the_ girl and are immediately ready to get married and settle down? Are you really sure you know what you are doing? I know they did this stuff different during your day, but…"

Steve finished up the last sip of his beer and said with an edge that was intended to be a strong message to his friend, "Sam, I'm not going to discuss it. I can deal with this. Fact is, I've found my girl and no other will ever do. When she is ready then I'll ask. If she says no then I'll deal with that, too."

Sounding very uncomfortable, Sam replied, "Ok, man. I just want you to consider that she is a product of modern culture, so she won't necessarily see things how you do."

Steve didn't answer but reached for the remote control and turned on the television to find the baseball game.

"Glad you came, Rogers. I suppose Wilson told you that I had a talk with him last week?"

Steve nodded tersely and sat down across from Robert. "Yes, he did. In the future, Jefferson, I'd appreciate you talking directly to me. If you have anything you want to discuss, then I'm willing."

Looking sharply at Steve, Robert said slowly, "Is that so?"

He nodded again. "Yes."

"Ok. Let me call your bluff then. Are you in love with my sister?"

Steve raised his eyebrows and said seriously, "Definitely."

Robert snorted. "Well you are a different one. Didn't think you'd answer so honestly."

"I don't see any reason to hide my feelings for your sister, since they are nothing to be ashamed of. I do not like dishonesty either."

"Neither do I, so we should do well, Rogers. Tell me, what made you decide to call me?"

"I felt that it was time that we had an understanding."

"Well s***, if that is how things are, then yes."

Steve shrugged and placed his drink order before sitting back into his chair.

"So, you are genuinely serious about Mary-Claire?"

"Of course. I'd be an idiot not to be."

Robert laughed roughly. "There have been a lot of idiots in Mary-Claire's life. None of them made it past a first date as far as I'm aware. You are an anomaly. Not sure what I think of you."

"As I said, you only have to ask."

"Is this your career plan, Rogers? You intending to do this long-term?"

"Not sure that I have a right to do anything else, Jefferson. As long as the type of help that I can provide is needed, it would be inexcusable to shirk that duty."

Robert tilted his head and looked at Steve before taking a sip of his drink. "Interesting perspective in these times, Rogers. No need to look offended. I happen to agree with you. However, that is a tough life for anyone attached to you, isn't it?"

"Yes, I have considered that very seriously. I suppose that would be up to Mary-Claire."

"Therefore, if she doesn't like it then she can take a hike?"

Steve sat forwards with the first real display of emotion he had shown to Robert. "No, I meant that I would retire."

Robert did not reply, but his expression showed Steve how very surprised he was by this answer. "I can't tell you what to do, Rogers, but I think you want to be very sure you mean that before you spring that on my sister. That is a huge burden to lay on her."

"I do not intend to spring anything of the sort on Mary-Claire. Yet, if she tells me that she cannot bear the reality of what I do, then I would be willing to retire."

Robert sat for some time in silence, sipping his bourbon and watching Steve. Finally, he said, "Ok. Go ahead, Rogers."

Steve looked up with surprise. "Thank you."

"Don't think my approval means that much. Mary-Claire has already shown herself to be quite headstrong about you. Nor do I think you are above taking what you want if I tried to stop you either. Wouldn't really respect you if you were, honestly. However, I have to ask you, has she talked to you about her anxiety?"

"No, she hasn't, but I can see that she has severe social anxiety."

"Now it could probably be categorised as merely severe, but it was far worse than that when she was younger. She can't live alone, Rogers. She needs a very strong support system. You won't find a more intelligent woman in all of New York, ok? I would have bribed anyone necessary to get her the career she wanted, but she has earned everything herself. She is truly brilliant. However, she has to be careful not to push herself too far. She hasn't been in the hospital in the last year, but sometimes she has to spend a week or so in-patient when it gets too much."

Surprised, Steve watched Robert for a few moments. Then he asked, "You think that would deter me, Jefferson?"

"No, I actually think it won't. Yet, I know my sister. She's not going to tell you because she is incredibly mortified by her struggles with the anxiety. I want you to be aware of it, so you are prepared when the s*** hits the proverbial fan. Because it will."

"Okay, I hear what you are saying."

"But you don't believe it. Well, you have been alerted. How you deal with it is up to you. I am not going to interject myself in your relationship with my sister. You have to figure her out on your own or else you will end up f***ing it up. She deserves for you to do it right, Rogers."

Surprised, Steve nodded. "I wouldn't want to do it any other way, Jefferson."

"Fine. This portion of the conversation is over. Drink your d*** drink, Rogers. I want to ask you another important question."

Steve tipped back his drink, finishing the entire scotch in one swallow, and then asked, "Yeah? Shoot."

"I know you're a Brooklyn guy."

"Yep."

"And the Dodgers are long gone now."

Suddenly speaking with the strong accent of his youth, Steve said forcefully, "Oh yeah, nope. The Yankees can kiss my a**."

Robert laughed loudly. "I knew I liked you. Good answer, buddy."

Steve waved to the bartender and replied, "Only possible answer."

* * *

Mary-Claire heard a sniffle and then a very wobbly voiced Alice whispered, "Mary-Claire?"

She gripped the phone and asked with concern, "Alice! What is wrong?"

"I left. I packed up every suitcase I had and I left."

Making a sound of shock, Mary-Claire asked seriously, "You left Glenn? Oh my goodness, honey. What happened?"

Alice did not reply for a few moments as she was clearly crying, but finally, she said in a shaky voice, "He said that if I didn't want to be married then that meant I didn't truly want to be with him. In other words, it was either agree to permanent servitude as Mrs Northridge or leave. So, I left."

Mary-Claire breathed out sadly and replied only, "Oh honey. I'm so sorry."

"Well I know that you agree with him. You think I should marry him. But I can't do that. You know that I can't tie myself to one person like that."

"Yes, I know that is how you feel about marriage. You have said that for years. Glenn knew it going into the relationship, too. And no, I don't think you should marry him if it wouldn't make you happy, honey. I love my cousin and I know he wants to be with you, but you have to make the choice that is right for you regardless of what Glenn thinks he needs."

"Well he didn't plan to fall in love with me, honey. We were just having fun, you know? That was all I wanted, too. I don't know when I decided maybe more would be ok. Probably when he started begging me to move in. And I was happy with that. But this is not going to work out any more. He has gotten so possessive and he refuses to respect my need for freedom. I will never become someone's property."

Mary-Claire made a sad sound of sympathy. "Honey, if you don't want to marry him then you are right to tell him no. I would never try to convince you to do what you don't want to do. I'm your friend first and foremost. Glenn knows that. Tell me where you are?"

"I'm at the Peninsula. I don't want to see anyone for a while. Glenn will come to your apartment to see Robert, so I can't go there."

"Okay, alright. Do you want me to come stay with you there? I can tell Robert that I'm with you, but not where we are."

Alice sighed and then said, "I…no, not tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I just want to lay here and cry tonight."

Mary-Claire replied with concern, "Well, I don't like you being all by yourself, Alice. I'm worried about you."

"Oh, I'm not going to jump off the balcony or anything. I'm just going to get very, very drunk and cry to some very sad old school country music. I think I'm going to drag out the big guns."

"Oh my goodness, not Hank."

"Patsy."

Mary-Claire shook her head and said sadly, "Wow. That's more like a civil war cannon. Well, I will call you in a few hours?"

"Yeah, ok. Or I'll call you. Glenn is in bad shape. Robert should know, so you'd better tell him. Love you, honey."

"Love you too, Alice. Please be careful."

Mary-Claire tucked her phone in the pocket of her dressing gown and hurried out of her bedroom suite and down the corridor towards the other side of the flat where her brother's bedroom suite was. She called out, "Robert!" You never did know with Robert what you were going to walk into. "Robert?"

His bedroom door burst open and Robert stood looking dishevelled and very concerned. "What is wrong, Sissy?"

"You need to call Glenn. Maybe actually go over there."

Robert tied his bathrobe and cursed forcefully. "S***! Did she finally break up with him?"

"Yes."

Closing his eyes with frustration, Robert said angrily, "I told him to stop pushing. You think it is fixable?"

Mary-Claire shook her head. "No."

He cursed again as he punched his fist into the wall. "F***! Okay. I'll…let me, um…Sissy, just go on back to your room. I'll take care of it."

Her all-too intelligent glance at his bedroom door made Robert sigh. "Yeah, sorry. I know I said I'd always take it to a hotel. I didn't just plan it this time."

"That is entirely your business, Robert. I'll let you figure things out. Alice said Glenn was in pretty bad shape."

"F*** it. Okay. I'll take care of it."

"All right, Robert." She turned and hurried back to her side of the apartment. She wondered who the girl was this time. Her brother was such a dark horse. You never could tell.

* * *

AN: PrincessStarberry: Thank you for your review! I am glad that you enjoy all the other portions of the story. Those, especially the extended cast of characters, are what makes it fun to write. I'm glad it is fun to read, too. :-)

Santee Ordrin: As always, thank you. Your reviews always lift my spirits.

ARE: You are the best. Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Groaning as he looked up at the ceiling and leant into the chair in front of Steve's desk, Sam said, "I did not plan for you to hear about it, to be honest."

"I had to know, Sam, you know that. An intrusion onto the training facility and a theft? If I hadn't been notified, then it would be more of a problem."

"It was just…embarrassing, man. Seriously."

Steve looked sympathetically at his friend, but replied only, "Not your fault, Sam. This type of technology isn't something that we have planned or trained for."

Sam drawled sarcastically, "Right. Not supposed to be prepared enough to defend myself against the bug people. Not sure I was ready for a lot of the s*** that has gone down, Cap, but I still handled it. I should have handled this, too."

"Well, we have to consider that your suit is more vulnerable than we realised. Perhaps Tony can take that into account in the next version."

"No. I am not having Stark find out that I got beat by a dude who calls himself Ant-man. No way, man."

Steve sighed and said wearily, "If this guy can get inside your suit, then Tony and Rhodes both could be vulnerable. We have to let Tony know, Sam."

"Listen, Cap, you tell them what you have to tell them about a possible vulnerability, but I do not need Stark coming up with a whole new list of ridiculous nicknames for me after this. You know how I feel about that."

"Ok. I'll think about it. In the meantime, we only have two hours before we head out. Do me a favour and make that call, Sam. You can't avoid voice mails forever."

Sam made a face at Steve and grumbled, "Don't see why I have to do it. It's her fault things got like this."

"Please, Sam. You know it needs to be done."

"Fine, fine. I will call her."

"Thank you. It's the right thing to do, Sam. Family is too important not to try one more time."

Sam rolled his eyes and made a gesture as he left the room with a bitter laugh.

* * *

"Well, surely your boyfriend will come back soon, silly Sissy. I don't know why you are so worried."

"It's been three weeks! He didn't think it would be even one. What if something has happened? He might have been hurt. I don't even know where he went. These days who even knows? Robert!"

Robert rolled his eyes at his sister, but replied in a softer tone, "He is an Avenger, Sissy. You cannot possibly expect him to have regular hours or keep a tight schedule. If you can't handle this now, then how will you deal with it if your relationship gets more serious? Have you talked to Dr Gampeghi about this?"

Mary-Claire sniffled. "I don't know what I will do. I've worried about that. I would never want him to change what he does. I just have to figure out how to handle it, which is really frightening."

Her brother grunted with frustration. "This is who he is, Sissy."

"Of course, which is part of what makes him special. What he does is important to the world, so it matters more than my comfort, Robert."

"I'm glad you see it that way, since there would be no good result if you wanted him to change."

"I would never want him to change for me. That would be awful, Robert."

Robert frowned at her. "You are going to need to make sure Steve knows that, Sissy. I have no idea what his plans truly are, ok? However, if he believed you couldn't be happy if he didn't retire then he might actually consider it."

Mary-Claire shook her head. "No. He wouldn't, I'm sure. He believes in what he does too much. No, I just have to figure out how I can handle it, Robert. You know that I always said that I couldn't date military because I couldn't go through what I went through with Riley again. Now I've chosen a former Army commando, who is a super soldier that currently fights literal monsters. I've had nightmares every night about him being hurt or losing his memory and forgetting me or…or not coming back." She flopped back in her chair and looked at her brother fiercely, "As for Dr Gampeghi, she just said that I should reassess whether Steve is a good choice for me, since I have been so stressed. Well, obviously, he is a good choice, so I sort of tuned her out at that point. Her advice was pretty unhelpful and kind of stupid."

Putting his arm around his sister, Robert asked, "Ok, we can get back your therapist in a moment. I want to know, are you in love with him, Sissy?"

Lying unconvincingly, Mary-Claire stammered, "I…I don't know."

Robert gave her look that made it clear he knew that was untrue and asked, "Has he told you how he feels about you?"

She looked down at her hands as she replied, "Yeah, a bit. He just said that, well he said he thinks the world of me."

"Well, I can tell you that his feelings are far stronger than that, ok?"

Mary-Claire seemed annoyed as she watched her brother for a little while. "He's never said anything."

"He is a pretty reticent man, Sissy. He may be waiting until he is more certain of you, I don't know. But from what Wilson told me last month, Steve Rogers is hopelessly gone over you and has been for quite a while now. That matches what I have seen, too. So now, do you think that Captain America, who survived being frozen for 70 years, won't overcome any obstacle that gets in his way in order to come back to you?"

Mary-Claire gripped her hands together anxiously as she replied, "Robert! It isn't that easy. He can't predict what terrorists or whatever will do."

In a voice that was sharper than he usually used with his sister, Robert said firmly, "So maybe it is time that you admit what you feel for him and what you want to happen with this relationship. At this point, you are pretty much leading him down the garden path if you aren't truly interested in a future with him. He is _very_ serious about you."

"I didn't say that I wasn't serious about him. That isn't it! I just said that I'm not sure about everything. It is confusing. I _really_ like him, Robert. I think he is pretty much perfect." She began chewing on her fingernail as she dazed into the distance. "I just…I don't know, you know? I worry about everything. I don't know if he really knows me. He thinks that I am beautiful, but does he know _me_ or just have ideas about who he thinks that I am? Does he really, truly want the pile of baggage that comes with me, Robert? Also, I'm scared what happens when people find out. Steve says he can't understand how somehow people haven't found out about us and posted a picture online or something. Then it will be weird and scary and people will say stuff all over Twitter and I just don't know how to handle that."

Scoffing loudly, Robert spoke even more aggressively than he had before, "You don't even read Twitter. Who the h*ll cares what other people say, Sissy? You are beautiful enough that people notice when you are there anyway. If they see you with Steve and they're aware he is 'Captain America', then they'll just think he got lucky as all h*ll. And they'd be right."

She nodded and said, "But I'm scared of all that, Robert. I mean, it was horrible when people took pictures of us at the White House and all. Remember? And that was just the once and no one said anything mean because it was all about Riley. I just can't bear gossip about me."

"Then why did you ever go on a second date with the man, Sissy? You knew what dating him would eventually mean."

She sighed and almost let out a sob as she replied, "Because he is amazing. There is no one like him."

"So you are in love with the poor man, Sissy. Accept it."

Mary-Claire waved her hands as if to ward off something frightening. "I know, ok? I accepted that a while ago, Robert. I'm just not been ready to talk about it."

"Or admit it."

"Well, I am admitting to you now, ok?"

* * *

"I have to say Rogers, I'm impressed."

Steve looked over towards Natasha from his hunched over position and wearily asked, "How so?"

"You were more tightly controlled and focussed than I've ever seen, which is unusual for a man in your position."

Putting his phone down on the desk in front of him, Steve replied, "I see." He looked away and replied flatly, "You have continued to comment obliquely about my relationship with Mary-Claire. What is it that you really want to say?"

Natasha shrugged and stated simply, "In my experience, a man as in love as you clearly are cannot handle his s*** enough to get the job done. Instead of being compromised, you are more disciplined than ever. I have never seen that before, so it impresses me."

Sighing slowly, Steve closed his eyes for a moment and leant back. Then he looked directly at Natasha. "I don't have a choice, Natasha. I cannot allow my team to be affected by my personal life. I owe you all that much as your leader."

"No one but you would take that responsibility this seriously, Rogers."

Steve looked directly at Natasha and replied seriously, "I can't do anything else."

Smiling slightly, Natasha started to walk away as she very softly replied, "That's why you're the captain, Rogers."

Thinking uncomfortably about what Natasha had said, Steve wondered how impressed she would be if she knew how afraid he was to call Mary-Claire. It had been at least twenty minutes that he'd sat there with the phone in his hand before Natasha came in. It was ridiculous to be frightened about calling her. One way or the other, he had to know where things stood. There was no point in hiding behind cowardice.

Looking around the room to be sure he was truly alone, Steve finally snatched up the phone, quickly pressed the buttons, and put it to his ear. As soon as he heard her greeting, he felt his stomach lurch nastily and he stammered, "Mary-Claire? Hi, it-it's Steve."

"Steve! You're back! Oh my goodness, I've been so worried. Oh my goodness!"

He could hear her relief and began to calm himself as he apologised, "I am sorry that it took so long. We didn't expect it to go quite like that. We went straight from the situation with Ultimo into two others."

"Are you ok? Did you get hurt? Did it go all right?"

He was not going to tell her about that. He grimly prevaricated, "I'm fine. How are you, Mary-Claire?"

"I'm just glad that you are ok. You have no idea how nervous I've been."

Steve frowned and plucked at his sleeve. "I've been concerned, too, Mary-Claire."

"Well I'm sure. You have to make certain the mission succeeds. That's a ton of responsibility."

With a sigh, Steve answered further, "I wasn't talking about the mission. That is separate. I was referring to you, Mary-Claire."

"Why? I haven't done anything more dangerous than write an opinion that was a bit subpar for the Security Council."

"I have been gone for five weeks without any contact. I had no idea how you would take that."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and waited for her reply. When it came, he winced. "Did you think that I wouldn't want to see you? Really?"

"I hoped that wouldn't be the case, Mary-Claire, but our last date was a little wobbly and then I disappeared for 5 weeks. Yes, I was worried."

Her tone very flat, Mary-Claire replied, "Oh. I didn't think about it like that."

He could hear from her voice that he had made a mistake. He said anxiously, "I would really like to see you, Mary-Claire."

"Um, ok. Of course. Would you call me about that tomorrow? I'm really glad you are ok, Steve."

Suddenly aware that something was very wrong, Steve desperately pleaded, "Wait, Mary-Claire…"

"Bye, Steve."

Steve stared down at his phone and felt his anger rage through him so fiercely that he dropped the phone on the desk, so he wouldn't crush it. The feeling of fear and fury twirling inside him with little control was so frightening that Steve burst from his office and nearly ran towards the elevators. No, that would take too long. He turned towards the stairs and took them two at a time until he got down to the hall leading down to the smaller training rooms. No one had better be using that punching bag.

"Rogers."

Steve stopped and looked back. He did not need to deal with anyone right now. "What do you need, Barton?"

"Woah, you ok?"

"Not really. Did you need something?"

Barton stared at Steve with concern as he replied, "Not enough to get in your way. What the f*** happened?"

"Not going to talk about it. If you have something you need, see me later, ok?"

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine. You deal with whatever… _this_ …is."

Steve's nostrils flared and he clenched his jaws as he nodded in reply before turning away. He did not see Barton's shocked expression, nor would he have cared.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: For those who are uncomfortable with such things, the end of this chapter contains allusions to some serious childhood abuse and resulting trauma. This development is not an arbitrary plot point for the sole purpose of angst: it is a critical part of the female character's history, which has very much affected her personality and life choices. I am purposefully light on detail as I believe it is unnecessary, however, it should be simple enough to read between the lines, just as Steve himself does. This will _not_ become a recurrent theme in this story, but is necessary to provide understanding for Steve (and the reader).

Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read my story. I am very appreciative of every reader. :-)

* * *

Chapter 8

"Robert, can't you get that? Please?"

Putting his phone back on the table, Robert shook his head and took another sip of coffee. "Nope. I'm busy with this contract."

"You are such a jerk, Robert. I'm not even half done my breakfast."

"Too bad. You're a slow poke."

Mary-Claire got up, smoothed out her dress, and patted her hair down. "I'm not going in to my office today, you know."

"I know, little sis. It will be okay though. I'm sorry you have been so unhappy."

As she wandered out of the breakfast room, she replied, "Not sorry enough to answer the door so I can eat."

"No, because I'm a bastard. Also, I'm pretty certain that you want to answer this one, Sissy."

Mary-Claire stopped and looked back suspiciously. "Why?"

He held up his phone. "Because of what I saw on the doorbell camera."

Mary-Claire turned and ran out of the room. As soon as she got to the door, she took a deep breath and pulled it open with trepidation. When she did, she saw Steve standing in front of her with an expression that she didn't understand. "Steve?"

"Hello, Mary-Claire."

She stepped back and quietly said, "I didn't expect you."

Steve nodded tightly. "I know, but I need to speak with you."

"C-come in. Robert is here, but we can go talk on the roof garden."

"All right." Steve stood awkwardly in the foyer as Mary-Claire shut the door. "You will want a coat. It is very windy, so you will be cold up there."

"Yuck, I believe it. Yet, it is all blossoms and beauty back home. Sometimes, I hate New York."

Steve waited for her to pull a lightweight silk coat out of the wide coat closet and then moved to help her on with it.

"Thank you, Steve."

He nodded but didn't reply. Frowning at his strange demeanour, Mary-Claire awkwardly led him towards the stairs that would take them up to the roof garden of the penthouse. Neither of them spoke until they got up to the large sunroom.

Finally turning towards him, Mary-Claire asked as she stared down at his boots, "Are you angry? You are acting weird."

Steve stepped closer to her and asked in a low, serious voice, "Yes, actually. I have no idea what is going on with us, Mary-Claire. Why did you react like that yesterday?"

"Well you thought I would just stop liking you because you were out saving the universe again and it took a little longer than expected. Ok, a lot longer. What does that say about how little you think of me, Steve?"

Staring down at her with a blazing look she had never seen before, Steve said heatedly, "I think that you have been careful to leave me just that unsure of how you feel, Mary-Claire, so you shouldn't be so surprised. You know that I'm hopelessly in love with you, but I cannot tell anything with you."

"Steve!"

"No, I need you to listen. I've had five weeks to think about nothing else but this. I know what I want. I have to know where I stand with you. What is this to you?"

Mary-Claire felt tears starting to fill her eyes but tried desperately to blink them away. "You never said that you felt that way, Steve. How would I know that?"

She watched him clench his jaw tightly and stepped closer. He moved away in response. "Every single action of mine over the past six months, Mary-Claire. I don't know how much more obvious I could have been. Do I seem like the kind of man who is going to fool around dating a girl this long if I don't want more?"

She cautiously, replied, "No, I suppose not, however, that is fairly common these days, Steve, so I could not make assumptions just because I wanted to believe it. Why didn't you say something?"

"Frankly, Mary-Claire, I didn't think you were ready to hear it."

She stared at him for a moment. Frustration was quickly being added to her initial shock as she peered up into his stony face. "How can you expect me to magically know what you feel when you don't even know how I feel about _you_?"

"I would have thought that my actions spoke loudly enough, Mary-Claire."

"So, you are saying that mine have not then? If you thought that I was not invested in this, then why would you keep seeing me? Honestly, Steve, why do you think that I am spending all this time with you?"

"You are going to have to tell me, Mary-Claire. I am not certain what you are doing. There is a large difference between enjoying our time together because it's fun and wanting this to continue for the rest of our lives. I don't know what you want or where this is going. I have never understood women at all, but you are so far out of my league that I feel like I am swimming uphill through quicksand in the dark."

It was a moment before she was able to find the words to explain. "Of course, I am invested in this, Steve. I'm not sure what you are so angry about. What haven't I done that you were looking for?"

His eyes intently watching her, Steve's tone was still fierce as he replied, "I have no idea, Mary-Claire."

"Well, I have never truly dated someone. A few first dates, yes, but nothing further. You are the only one I've even held hands with. In fact, you're the only one that I've _wanted_ to hold hands with even, Steve. I've never kissed anyone. I suppose that I am pretty clueless and I've very inexperienced."

Steve tilted his head for a moment and then walked purposefully towards her. "That will have to change."

"Well…I…"

Steve put his hand behind her head and pulled her in towards him. He looked in her eyes, asking permission. She lifted a hand to his chest and sighed slightly as he leant in. When he finally pulled away and tried to gauge her reaction, Mary-Claire still had her eyes closed. Slowly she opened them, flushed slightly, and said only, "Oh."

Steve laughed lightly and said, "I love you, Mary-Claire."

Her hands still clutching the front of his shirt, Mary-Claire said only, "Mmm." Then she tucked her head into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and placed a kiss on the top of her head. After a few moments, she replied in a soft, sleepy tone, "You are wonderful."

After standing there like that for some time, Steve whispered into her ear, "You are so beautiful." Steve pulled away, so he could look down at her, but Mary-Claire purposefully stared at his shirt and played with a button, as he asked, "Do you understand what I want to know?"

Her face bright red, Mary-Claire fiddled with the button as if her life depended on it. "Not really."

"I want to have everything with you. All of it. I think that I've wanted that since our first date, frankly."

Mary-Claire seemed to be attempting to judge his sincerity, whilst her blue eyes stared intently up at him.

His face now pale with nervousness as he anxiously watched her, Steve pleaded, "Marry me, Mary-Claire. Please. I am so completely in love with you. Tell me that you care for me, anything. Just say you will, please?"

She replied shyly, but firmly, "I do, I love you so much. Of course, I do."

His expression brightening with incredulity, Steve asked, "You will?"

"Of course." She stood on her tiptoes and slipped her arms up around his neck and bit her lip as she looked up at him. "Yes, of course, I will."

This time Steve kissed her so passionately that Mary-Claire could only clutch his collar and hang on. When he pulled back to breathe, Mary-Claire dropped her head onto his chest and began to sob. She felt herself suddenly swept up into his arms as he carried her over to one of the chairs. He gently settled her against the cushion and then knelt beside her. "What is wrong? I'm so sorry, Mary-Claire. I'm so sorry, darling. Did I pressure you too much?"

"Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect." She sniffed and gripped his hand in both hers as she said, " _You're_ perfect. I don't understand how it all got so wonderful. Are you sure, Steve? Really?"

Quite confused, Steve stroked the side of her face and said, "Of course I am sure. How could I not want to marry a girl like you, Mary-Claire?"

She breathed deeply and said simply, "I think you just stunned me."

"I don't want you to cry, Mary-Claire."

"I…I cry when I'm overwhelmed. I'm not sad, I'm just shocked."

"Darling, have I really been so hard to read?"

"I don't know. For me, yes. Robert seemed sure, but since you didn't say anything I just…"

Steve touched her face again lovingly, but with a pained expression, and interrupted firmly, "Then let me be clear. I am irrevocably, wholly in love with you. I am very sure of what I feel and just as certain of what I want. I may be a private man, but for you I will show you everything I got."

She sighed with relief. "Honestly, I believe that I've been in love with you the whole time, Steve."

Steve continued to stroke her hair lightly as he said, "For me, it was since I saw you in the café."

"When?"

He explained with an embarrassed look, "I saw you in the café with Alice. I was sitting behind you and you two had an argument. Then you raced by me. I felt like I'd been hit in the chest by a tank."

"The time that she and I argued? You were there? Oh my gosh."

"Yes. Then I acted like some creep and hung around the café for a couple weeks hoping you'd come back in."

Mary-Claire shook her head. "But that time I first saw you…well I thought that was the first time you'd seen me, too…but anyway, you didn't say anything."

Steve's face was pink with mortification, as he admitted, "I know. Your beauty is intimidating."

Incredulous, Mary-Claire insisted, "But you are…you are you. I couldn't have said no to you. You're so…so perfect."

Steve laughed bitterly. "No, I'm not. I am glad that you believe it, but I'm not."

"I'm relieved that you talked to me at the charity thing then."

He smiled warmly. "You cannot imagine how it felt seeing you there. I couldn't believe that I had another chance."

Mary-Claire admitted, "You looked pretty fierce when you walked over. I remember wondering if someone had made you angry."

"I did? I…wow, I'm so sorry, Mary-Claire. I wasn't angry. I was trying not to lose the nerve now that I had a second chance to talk to you."

"It doesn't matter now anyway. It's ok. I also remember thinking that you were so pretty to look at that I hoped you weren't a jerk, since I really wanted to talk to you."

Steve stared at her in surprise and not a little bit of confusion. "I've, uh, never been called that before."

"No? How about painfully gorgeous?"

"Uh, not really."

"Ridiculously handsome?"

Laughing uncomfortably, Steve placed both hands on her face and kissed her so softly and tenderly that even after he pulled away she was left speechless. He softly whispered in her ear, "I love you."

It was a few minutes before she finally replied. Steve was still sitting beside her on the ground with her hand in his. His head snapped up as soon as she spoke, "I am sorry that I haven't introduced you to Alice. I had planned to do so the weekend that you ended up going on the mission. I couldn't introduce you to her until I felt like everything wouldn't implode. She's so terribly overprotective that she, Robert, and Glen together are like an impenetrable force field that you somehow miraculously got through. It is very frustrating at times, but they mean so well, you know."

Steve nodded. "I can understand that. You've been through a lot, darling. She's a good friend to you, Mary-Claire."

"I hope you do and don't misunderstand. I promise that it isn't that I'm not proud of you. I want you to meet everyone important to me. It is because I was afraid we might break up a few times when you got a little quiet and stuff."

He stood up at that and looked down at Mary-Claire with an inscrutable expression. "Quiet how?"

"You can be standoffish occasionally, you know. I can tell that you are thinking about things, but you aren't sharing them with me. Sometimes your expression is very stiff and I wonder if whatever you are thinking means you are not happy with our relationship. I am very good at doubting myself, so I didn't feel very certain of you either."

Steve tugged a chair closer so that he could sit on it whilst he watched Mary-Claire for a moment. "I just thought that you did not want me to know if you cared. It felt like you were purposefully keeping me at arm's length."

"No, I promise, Steve. I really thought that you were completely aware of how I felt, since you and I kept going out together. You wouldn't have continued taking me on dates if you thought that I didn't have feelings for you."

Laughing hollowly, Steve asked, "Oh, wouldn't I? Mary-Claire, I would have kept going until you told me to get lost. I've pretty much felt like I was drowning in fire since the day that I met you. I couldn't bear to give up a moment of whatever time you'd give me, but I didn't think that I had any chance that you would return my love.

Mary-Claire sighed sadly, "Oh, Steve. I love you so much. It is unfortunate that we are both such very private people, so we've been hurting unnecessarily."

Steve leant forwards with his hand on her cheek to place a very gentle kiss on her lips. "I agree, so I think it is critical that we start sharing the things that each other needs to know. I've told you about Buck, which is probably the biggest thing."

She looked at him uncertainly, but did not reply for a moment. "Maybe it is, Steve. I don't know. It's my turn to talk to you, isn't it?"

"There isn't anything else that has a hold on my heart like you other than Buck, but he's family. My childhood best friend and brother, really. You are everything else."

"OK, well, I believe that you think that, so I hope that you are right. I have to tell you something, Steve. I should have told you this a long time ago. Please don't be too mad at me. Although, you have every right to be, since I've hidden the extent of it from you."

Steven picked up her hand and kissed the palm before he replied, "I am not angry with you. What is it that I should know, Mary-Claire?"

She shivered with nervousness and looked at him with wide eyes. "You know already that I have social anxiety problems. But…I had a lot—and I do mean a lot—of difficulty as a child. Something happened when I was very young, ok? I don't remember very much, but I was badly affected as a child. I had selective mutism for years—I actually refused to speak aloud to people outside of my immediate family and Alice. Her mother was my mother's best friend, so I've always known her, you see."

First waiting until she nodded before he put his hand over hers, Steve said, "I am so sorry, darling. So sorry."

"Well...well, anyway, it happened. Therefore, I was educated at home until I was 8 until my psychiatrist finally decided I was ready to handle school. It wasn't just that I was nonverbal and had terrifying anxiety, but I was three years ahead of my age group at that age."

"That is a lot for anyone to have to handle at that age."

"Yes, honestly. My parents convinced a small private school to take me and I used a special keyboard to communicate, but it was pretty scary for me. But after my parents died when I was 12, Robert and Glen decided to bring me back at home to work with a tutor and I never returned to a classroom until college. However, only a few months after my parents died was when I had to be hospitalised."

She paused to gauge his reaction, but Steve continued watching her with such kindness and sympathy that Mary-Claire felt brave enough to continue. "My sister, Sarabeth, never really believed Robert and Glen about what they saw, so when I got sent to the hospital, she felt that I was just seeking more attention."

Steve muttered angrily, "S***." Then he seemed to realise what he had said and apologised, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I just cannot understand that your sister's reaction."

"Well, that is Sarabeth, unfortunately. Anyway, everything quickly got very ugly. The extended family got involved—most of them still blame my parents for going to the police about a family member. Some of the family attempted to make some trouble when I was in the hospital, which led to a permanent rift. That is when Robert and Glen started acting almost like my personal bodyguard. Riley, well, he was even more protective if possible. So you see, I may have been very privileged, but I didn't have a normal or emotionally healthy childhood, Steve."

He stroked her face gently and said softly, "I am so sorry that you had such a rough time, my darling. I cannot imagine how painful that must have been for you. What that family member did to you was not your fault, you know."

Mary-Claire shook her head and whispered, "Do you know?"

"I think I have an idea from what you have said. No child is at fault when an adult mistreats them, darling. Did you think that I might think less of you, Mary-Claire?"

"I don't know. I know that it had changed how people see me, the few times when someone did find out."

Steve's eyes gleamed with anger at her statement, but he replied very gently, "The only thing that knowing does for me is elicit my compassion for the little girl who felt so betrayed. I am so sorry, my love. I'll be honest that this makes me want to protect you that much more, but it could never change my feelings for you or make me respect you less."

Her body sagged with relief, as she replied in a wavering voice, "I should have told you a long time ago, since you need to know that I sometimes don't handle things well. I know that I should have trusted you enough to tell you, since being with someone like you would mean stressful situations will arise. I've just been so scared to tell you. I didn't want you to see me differently, does that make sense?"

Steve nodded. It was a moment before he replied, "I understand why you were afraid, but you can always trust me to be there for you, Mary-Claire. I am not going to turn away if something gets difficult."

"I know. I do know that something being difficult would never have been the reason you would have broken up with me. However, I've been so unsure of everything between us that I was scared to tell you, in case you decided that this was the proof that I'm not who you thought and so we shouldn't be together anymore. I admit that was illogical and immature, Steve, but I can be that way sometimes."

Steve sighed and set his jaw firmly before he replied, "How much harder would it have been if you didn't tell me, then you fell apart because of some stressor and I had no idea what was going on? I need to know everything, Mary-Claire, if we are going to trust each other. Something that you have to know about me now, darling, is that I cannot have a relationship without trust. I understand why you hid all this from me this time. Shame is a powerful emotion, my love, but I don't blame you at all for what was done to you. Yet, I won't be able to accept you keeping secrets in the future. Do you understand that?"

Mary-Claire nodded, unable to speak. She stared out into the distance at the lights of the skyline and blinked back tears without a word. Finally, she turned to him and said, "I'm sorry, Steve. I suppose that I'm not that strong. I'm not like most girls and I'm not at all like you. I should have let you know this a long time ago so you had a chance to…"

Steve interrupted again with a firm voice, "Stop. It would not have changed how I feel about you, Mary-Claire. I am not looking for a girl any different than you. I want _you_."

"Well, but…I…"

"What has you so afraid, my darling? It is only your fear that I wouldn't value you because of something some monster once did to you? Is there some other reason that you mistrust that I would love you, Mary-Claire? Please be honest. It is important that I know."

"Well, you have never said or done anything like that, no. However, I remember that I did a report on Peggy Carter when I was in 6th grade. Therefore, I know that I'm not the first girl that you loved. And I'm nothing at all like her."


	9. Chapter 9

AN: I apologise for the extraordinarily long delay in continuing this story. I promise that it has not been abandoned. I will continue updating this, as well as the companion piece (posted on FF as Marsaxlokk) that follows Bucky Barnes' story during roughly the same time period. Both stories will become intertwined eventually, once Steve and Bucky are reunited.

Additionally, I have modified Chapter 8, as well. The changes are small but significant, as I have decided to let the reader into some information a bit earlier than planned.

* * *

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Initially, Steve had frozen, then he gripped her hand more tightly than he was aware. Once he had gathered his thoughts, he then spoke unusually slowly, as he unsuccessfully tried to keep his face from expressing his misery. "You are right, of course. I ought to have talked about Peggy with you. I did love her and I still do. That was only a few years ago to me, Mary-Claire. I cannot simply forget her. Yet, it does not mean that I cannot also love you."

Alarmed, Mary-Claire insisted, "Steve, no, I don't want you to forget her! It is simply that she is everything that I am not, which concerns me about your expectations. She was brave and so independent. She pushed for what she wanted and challenged everyone's expectations. She left her native country for somewhere new so she could achieve her goal. She broke so many barriers. She was obviously an incredible, amazing person. I, on the other hand, cannot even handle the subway without a panic attack. I don't live with my brother just because we are close, but because I cannot live alone."

His expression tight with surprise, shock, and pain, Steve held out his hand to Mary-Claire and gently pulled her up from the chaise longue. When she was standing in front of him, he very softly kissed her forehead and then said, "I have never verbalised this even to myself, since this is hard to talk about, Mary-Claire. I've purposefully avoided it, honestly. Please be patient with me as I try to find the right words."

Eyes widened in fear at what he was going to say, Mary-Claire whispered, "Ok."

"Peggy was a very special lady, as you just described. I was also a very different man when I met her. Just like now with you, I wanted a woman who I knew I could never truly live up to, but for whom I would be quite happy to die trying. When I met her…I was just some tiny, ignorant Irish kid from a poor Brooklyn tenement. I only wanted to do what was right and to be like all the other fellows, who were defending our country."

Mary-Claire sighed. "Ok, Steve, I can understand that."

His jaw tight as he stiffened with anger, Steve replied, "Yeah? Well, lots of people don't—even a few of my colleagues. People think I'm pitifully naïve for putting my faith in our country even when it is obvious how many mistakes have been made. But I'm not a fool, you know? I see all the bad things; I just still got hope. I gotta believe that it can be better, you know?"

"I do understand that, Steve. I would rather we keep trying harder and working to get closer to the America we want to be instead of tearing it down to replace it with something else. That is what Riley always said anyway."

Steve nodded and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. "The America of my childhood wasn't as free as it is now. So many people seem to have lost sight of how far we've come. I'm not saying we shouldn't fight to get farther. It just gives me hope that if we can get here from there, that we can make things even better. I may have been a dirt-poor Brooklyn boy, but Peggy, Morita, and Jones all had to fight for respect and equal treatment in a way I never had to worry about even when I was small."

"I understand."

Steve continued gruffly, "Well, that's how it was for my mother as a woman in pre-war Ireland, too. Legally, she had few rights and she couldn't do anything without her family's permission. So, when both their families objected to them getting married since my father was Protestant and my mother was Catholic, my parents eloped and fled to the U.S. After my father was killed in the Great War, my mother used her experience helping my grandfather, who was a doctor, to get a job as a trained nurse so she could support us. She couldn't have done any of that in Ireland at that time. That's why my mother raised me to have such faith America."

Mary-Claire's voice was incredibly soft as she replied, "She sounds like a truly amazing woman to have managed all that."

Steve jutted out his jaw pugnaciously as he insisted, "She was. My mother was twice the hero that people believe I am." He closed his eyes and his postured sagged as he continued sadly, "She fought to keep me alive just as hard as she worked to mould my character, since she believed that was the true measure of a man. Everything that I do, I always consider the lessons she taught me, Mary-Claire."

Staring up at Steve with an expression that, if he had seen it, should have made him lose any doubts as to her true feelings, Mary-Claire whispered, "She sounds incredible, Steve. Just like I would have expected your mother to have been, honestly." She then sighed and continued more confidently, "Fierce love like she clearly had for you leaves an imprint on the loved one. You are very lucky."

Steve exhaled long and hard, as he worked to regain control of his emotion, then he opened his eyes and looked down at Mary-Claire. "Yes, I am. I am so glad that you understand. The man I am today was formed during that childhood as the son of a proud, determined widow in 1920s and 1930s Brooklyn. There often seems to be a chasm between the world as I understand it and what modern Americans seem to see. I don't know yet how to bridge that divide, but I really am trying. I'm not purposefully stuck in my old-fashioned thinking, yet I cannot completely change who I am. "

"But I don't want you to be anyone else. I love who you are now. I really like all those things that make you different."

Steve's posture relaxed noticeably. "You've never teased me about it once, not even when I don't get some reference you make. I've noticed that."

"Well, why would I, Steve? It isn't funny."

"Most people do, actually. They don't intend to be unkind, but they are nevertheless. They also have the strangest ideas about who Steve Rogers is. There have been a depressing number of people who assume that I would agree with misogyny or racism because of when I was born. I grew up in a tenement and I was a commando, yet nearly everyone assumes that I've never heard a dirty joke and would be too embarrassed to even talk to a girl."

She frowned angrily as she insisted, "Those people exist everywhere. Most people are not like that."

"I wasn't referring to strangers however, Mary-Claire. These are colleagues that have said these things."

Now Mary-Claire's expression was one of utter disdain as she replied, "Then there is no excuse. Anyone who has worked with you should know who you really are, Steve."

"Well, they don't mean to misunderstand, you know. I just don't think most people take the time. I'm not really real to most of them. I'm more of an historical character come to life."

"Well…also you're a celebrity. Especially in modern times that means that most people have assumptions and expectations about you that they aren't going to relinquish easily. It does not mean that you do not get to live your life and be a real person, Steve. You don't have to sacrifice everything about yourself to the cause."

It was a moment before Steve responded. "No, unfortunately I do, darling, I do. I accepted the responsibility with my eyes open, so I won't back down. The cost is just different this time around. It didn't seem that great of a sacrifice to offer my life to the war effort originally. I was not going to live to 30 and we all knew it. I tried so hard to enlist like my father had that it was pretty pathetic, but then I was given an amazing chance by Dr Erskine to do what I had hoped."

Mary-Claire was lost between confusion at the extended tangent in which he was now telling her much more about his past than he had ever before done and a desperate need to know what he had said earlier that he was going to explain. How was any of this relevant to his claim that he really could love someone like her after an amazing woman like Peggy Carter? She was beginning to feel slightly ill with nervousness as she tried to listen to Steve, who was gently holding her hands and ought to have felt how much she was shaking. However, as Mary-Claire looked up at Steve, she saw him looking past her as if he was watching something from long ago. She softly replied, "I see."

"You once described what your brother did as 'gung-ho'. Perhaps that is what you would say about what I was doing then. It was exciting and there were some fun times, but being a commando is brutal, violent, and dangerous work. It permanently changed me, Mary-Claire. When I 'died' crashing the plane, I was truly okay with making the sacrifice. I thought that was because it was my job, but I now know there was so much more going on within me then. I didn't see the changes in myself until after I woke up here and realised that I wasn't that stupid, naïve kid anymore. I wasn't the same guy who had fallen for Peggy, even though the feelings were still there."

Uncertain what he wanted her to understand from all this and slipping deeper into her insecurity as she heard him describe the amazing challenges he had overcome and the heroism of his war career, Mary-Claire could barely focus on what Steve was saying. However, she could see raw pain and rage in his eyes as she watched him, so she squeezed his hands comfortingly even as she felt her knees wobble.

"When I woke up here, I realised that everyone I ever knew was dead, Mary-Claire. I'd only just lost Bucky shortly before I crashed the plane. That is a lot of loss and change in what seemed like only weeks to me. SHEILD didn't give me much opportunity to deal with it and I didn't ask. I didn't _want_ to stop and feel that pain. Does that make sense?"

Her reply was whispered almost inaudibly, "Yes, of course. It must have been _awful_."

Steve's eyes snapped down to Mary-Claire's face and he stopped. "Mary-Claire, darling, am I upsetting you too much by explaining this?"

She shook her head vehemently. "It would be worse if-if…if you don't tell me, because then I will imagine more horrible things."

Steve placed his hand under her chin and tilted her face up so he could look into her eyes. "I just want you to understand, so you can believe me when I say that Steve Rogers now belongs wholly to you alone and I will always love you. That is all I am trying to do. I do love you, Mary-Claire."

"Then please finish?"

He rubbed his thumb along her cheek tenderly and said, "Ok, but my love is real and it will not change."

"Please just tell me what you need to tell me."

Steve sighed and gripped her hands tightly. "D*** it, I am horrible at this. I am sorry." He looked at her with misery and then continued his earlier explanation, "What I am trying to explain is that I am not at all the same person now as I was back when I met Peggy, Mary-Claire. I don't mean I don't have the same ideals. I do, since I'm the kind of dumb schlub who hangs on to the bitter end and keeps swinging even when I know I'm going to lose. I'm just bitterer, a little cynical, and just harder than I once was. The kid who never forgot his daily rosary until the day he was sent to Camp Lehigh has grown into a man who struggles to reconcile the Church's doctrine with a world that contains Midgardians and Chitauris. I went to that café on that day I first saw you because I was finding it very hard to defend my beliefs to myself. I had recently done something very, very stupid that really shook me and I needed to find myself again. I planned to sit there and just watch good, normal people and remind myself why I was even fighting anymore. Then I heard you talking and you showed me how far I had fallen away from who I want to be."

Mary-Claire shook her head. "But I didn't say anything amazing. Alice and I were just talking about dating, Steve."

"No, that isn't true. I mean it is, yes, but it is what you said about dating, I suppose. You refused to use some guy who was sweet on you even though he was apparently willing. Then you said that you trust your faith to lead you to make a good decision and that you simply wanted to do things the right way. You were focussed only on what was _right_ , not easy, unlike your friend. You had such trust in your faith, which was something I had not heard in too long. It was how I used to be, honestly. That was the moment that got me, ok?" Steve looked at Mary-Claire to make sure she was listening and lifted one hand to her cheek again before he sighed and dropped it to clench both fists by his side. "I have always been determined to do things the right way. That is the basic core of who I am: even though I often fall short, I always, always try to keep to my principles. Yet I had failed myself horribly and it shook me to the core, Mary-Claire. Since then, I discovered that you have such an unshakeable belief in what is right and you will not accept—not even from yourself—anything less than exactly what you feel is correct. You are a better person than I am, Mary-Claire. I can only hope to become worthy of you."

Instead of reacting positively, Mary-Claire pulled away slightly with a little scoffing snort. "Steve, you literally just spent 20 minutes telling me about your incredibly impressive life. No one can compare to that, least of all me. Therefore, you cannot claim that you are not worthy of me. Peggy Carter was incredible. I'm really _not_. I am glad you like the fact that I'm a good little Catholic girl, but surely you need a bit more in a woman than that. Sure, I'm pretty and quite smart, but I'm also weak and so fragile emotionally that I need help with too many things. I cannot even manage first-class commercial air flight without 10 mg of diazepam and a companion to make sure I don't have a complete meltdown. I truly think you believe that I'm someone I am not."

Steve frowned and asked seriously, "Is that genuinely how you see yourself or are you just feeling insecure because you think I can't love you after knowing Peggy?"

Pulling her shoulder away from Steve's hand as he tried to reach out to her, Mary-Claire answered flatly, "I suppose it is both."

Steve took a deep breath and allowed a rare flash of very strong emotion to pass over his face as he fervently replied, "Mary-Claire, I love you so much _more_ than I ever loved Peggy. She was special and she was my ideal once. I was sweet on her and I carried her picture through Europe when I fought." Steve pulled out a flat silver rectangle from his pocket and shoved it in her hand. "My ideal has shifted though, because I am a man now and not just a kid. You are my ideal."

Mary-Claire looked down at the rectangle and flipped it over. It was blank on both sides. Finally, she realised that it was a small travel picture frame. She opened it up and, when she saw what was inside, she snapped it shut in her surprise and then stared at him. Her face was deeply flushed as she handed it back to him with embarrassment and replied, "I don't really understand why you feel like that. I have not done half the things that she did, Steve."

"You should not sell yourself short, Mary-Claire. You are an international human rights attorney working at the United Nations. You finished law school before most people complete college. You are brilliant and you unfailingly work to help others even though it is a very steep uphill battle. That passionate courage to do what is right even when it is a lonely struggle is very rare. However, you carry that courage as if it is the most natural thing in the world. You don't waver in your faith even when you are challenged by those closest to you. Knowing now that you have struggled with serious childhood trauma, yet you still found a way to pursue your goals with extraordinary success makes me even more impressed with you. I can only hope to live up to what you would expect of me, but I will d*** sure go out trying."

All at once, Mary-Claire gripped his shirt and pulled him down so she could kiss him. However, Steve closed the distance and brought her up in his arms where he hugged her tightly for some time. After a while, he pulled away leaving Mary-Claire so befuddled that it took her a second to realise that Steve had turned to talk with someone.

"I certainly hope that you are about to marry my sister, bub. There are rules for Mary-Claire in my house and whatever _that_ was, it is breaking a big one."

Mary-Claire let go of Steve's shirt and narrowed her eyes at her brother. She was about to reply when she heard Steve's answer.

"Marriage is absolutely my plan, which is why we just got engaged. However, I don't understand how kissing my girl is either your business or a problem. You should trust your sister more, buddy."

Robert smiled and shrugged. "That was a h*ll of a lot more intimate than just a chaste kiss, Rogers. Yet, to be honest, I was just being a bastard to you. I can trust Mary-Claire. She makes better choices than I do every time. I'm glad you got her feeling better, Rogers. She's been a wreck for weeks."

Finally, Mary-Claire interjected hotly, "You really are a hypocrite, Robert."

"I know, Sissy. I really am." Robert gave her a kiss and then coldly said to Steve, "There are not many things that are good enough for my sister and I don't have enough of a conscience to care about breaking up anything that doesn't meet my standards. I stand by what I said a while back though, Rogers. Sissy, I'm going to give you another 20 minutes up here and then I'm off. Also, we will all be on the other side of that door when I leave."

"Robert! Quit it. I am quite a big girl and entirely capable of making my own decisions. I'm not going to do something stupid, but whatever I am doing is up to me and not you."

Robert looked at Steve and, by his intense expression, made it clear that he didn't trust Steve not to do something inappropriate with Mary-Claire at that moment. "Twenty minutes." Then he turned on his heel and left with the door slamming behind him.

Mary-Claire looked at Steve with mortification. "I am so sorry. Robert is just a jerk sometimes. Well, all the time with anyone but me, I guess. He's almost certainly going to be like that with you from now on, too."

Yet, Steve did not seem embarrassed at all. He smiled grimly and said, "Robert isn't in charge of what I do, so I'm not worried about it."

"It is 2015, you know. Robert doesn't really tell me what to do, nor, as a grown woman, do I feel particularly inclined to let him dictate my life."

Kissing the top of her head, Steve murmured, "Hm. You might want to tell that to him, Mary-Claire. Not sure he received that particular briefing."

"I know. He's overprotective, although Glenn is actually even worse. They can both go jump in a lake if they are going to be rude to you though, Steve." Mary-Claire then flushed hotly and looked down at her hands. "How long of an engagement do you want?"

"That is really up to you. I'm fine with anything between a day and a year—whatever you need."

She looked surprised, but pleased as she replied, "Well, I have to talk to my priest. You do, too."

Steve immediately stiffened. "Oh boy. That Father Doyle is a tough nut."

"Really? Everyone always says so, but he is so kind to me. Well, let's go meet with him."

"Today?"

Mary-Claire shrugged. "The sooner we speak with him then the sooner we can get him to agree to scheduling us. I don't really want to wait a year, honestly."

"Ok. Just one more thing."

"Hmm?"

Steve pulled her up into another embrace and kissed her like his life depended on it.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"So, ok. You are going to really be furious with me, Alice."

Alice swung her legs over the side of the bed and said, "Why?"

"Because I've really been keeping things from you."

Her eyes alight with amusement, Alice laughed and asked, "Oh, you are finally ready to tell me? Silly girl. So, who is the secret boyfriend?"

Her eyes narrowing as she stared at her friend, Mary-Claire asked suspiciously, "Do you already know?"

"Of course, I know. It has been so fun to tease you about it all this time. I saw you talking to him at my charity dinner. He was very clearly into you. Steve in law enforcement. That is a very funny way of describing Captain America."

Relieved, Mary-Claire declared, "Oh, I am so glad you aren't angry. I've been super worried about it."

"Well, one other thing. Did you ask Robert not to talk to Glenn?"

"I didn't even think about it. I didn't think they discuss things like that."

Alice laughed and flopped back onto Mary-Claire's bed. "Oh honey. Glenn thinks of you as his baby sister. You know that. When you lived with him when you were at Stanford Law, didn't he act more like a devoted brother?"

"Well yes, but Robert just doesn't talk about things."

"About you, he does. Glenn strongly approves and is so relieved that there is someone he can trust to take care of you that he has been almost not a big jerk this last week, which has been useful as I've been clearing out closets and boxing things."

"Oh. Oh, dear, Alice."

"I'm perfectly fine about all that and you know it. Glenn is a different matter, poor man. I want to focus on you though, dear."

"If you say so. Ok. So, they ruined my next piece of information, I assume?"

Alice sighed. "Yes, honey. That I really wish you had been able to tell me yourself about the proposal and everything. But Robert and Glenn, when it comes to you that is, are like…narcissistic, arrogant nannies."

Not disagreeing with her friend, Mary-Claire nodded and then admitted, "Well I had no idea it was going to happen though. I really didn't know for sure how Steve felt. I just knew that I am so crazy about him that sometimes I wonder how I'm ever going to find my balance, you know? Anyway, before we talked I definitely didn't trust that I was really the right sort of girl for him."

Propping herself up on one arm, Alice asked indignantly, "Well why not? You are awesome sauce poured over a delicious dish of beauty, brains, and poise. What would he have to be smoking not to fall for you?"

Mary-Claire shrugged. "I'm nothing like Peggy Carter."

"Well of course you are not. He is a grown a** man. He wants a girl that is going to complement who he is now. He's not a lovesick puppy going off to war anymore. She was his reason to return from war. He is back now and he needs a reason to keep living, instead of just merely existing. Haven't you thought about the level of psychological trauma and PTSD he must have? His unit was called the 'Howling Commandos', so what did you think he was doing every day out there, sugar? He defied death daily and killed dozens of enemies—both HYDRA and Nazis. Now it must be agony knowing everyone he ever knew is dead and HYDRA wasn't actually defeated. Everything has changed. America is different. And now he is supposed to go out and fight aliens and monsters and keep right on doing it whether he is tired or having a horrible day or suffering from a flashback. I don't know how he even gets out of bed in the morning. However, I am sure that having his relationship with you to live for has changed his life."

Mary-Claire breathed out a long breath and stared at Alice. "Golly, I wish I'd talked to you before. That is a much, much more concise description of what he was trying to tell me last night. Steve talks in tangents and circles and is so verbose that I was going nuts waiting for him to finally say it all. However, I wish that he hadn't needed to say it at all. I should have realised everything myself, especially if you did."

"No, honey, I'm not the one in the relationship with him. I don't have any emotions riding on an assessment of Steve Rogers and his interest in you. You are always so quick to doubt yourself, you know, dear. I can just imagine that you've been agonising over how amazing Peggy Carter is and how you don't feel you match up."

Hanging her head, Mary-Claire said quietly, "Well, that is exactly how it has been. You know me far too well, Alice"

Putting her arm around her best friend, Alice said seriously, "Oh honey, you aren't second place or a consolation prize for Steve. You need to draw a line in between his crash in the ice and waking up in the present. Everything after waking up here would be so painfully bittersweet and difficult. He cannot be the man he was then, you know?"

"He said that, too, only gosh, his explanation was _much_ wordier."

"Based on that speech at my charity, Steve is not really a man of words, so when he does speak, I can imagine that it is very conscientiously thorough."

Mary-Claire winced and nodded, but then changed the subject. "So, Father Doyle says he will agree to 6 weeks."

"Mean old Doyle is seriously bending the rules?"

"Wow, you too? Father Doyle is always so nice to me. Steve said Father is a tough nut, so I guess he agrees with you."

Alice gasped and waved her hands, as she insisted, "But how are we even going to manage a wedding so fast? Six weeks is very close! Where are you going to have it? Are all the cousins coming? Oh my gosh, if I'm not the maid of honour then I will die."

Mary-Claire laughed. "Silly, of course you are. I didn't think I needed to ask. Why would you doubt that?"

"I don't know. Bride brain makes women go crazy."

Glaring briefly at her friend, Mary-Claire stated lightly, "Ugh. I'd have to be certifiable. Ok, so we aren't doing anything huge though. We can't. No publicity."

"Oh. So no to the massive bridal shower and all that?"

"Yes. I mean, Steve said he'd do anything, but I can't handle press and paparazzi and all that."

"Well, of course he would do anything, poor man. You don't know what Robert told Glenn about when you got engaged."

"Oh, my goodness, what did my brother say now?"

Tossing a gossipy look at her best friend, Alice responded, "Only that Steve is so wild about you that he nearly gave Robert the middle finger when challenged about the two of you making out. Glenn thinks it's pretty d*** hilarious, you know. I think Robert is both half pissed off and half impressed."

Rolling her eyes, Mary-Claire replied flatly, "My brother is such a dork." Then she added with a reminiscent smile, "But yeah, Steve sort of told Robert to get out of his business."

Alice smiled and nodded her head with approval. "So, no, I'm not surprised that Steve would agree to anything you wanted, as long as it ended with you and he married. Knowing you, yeah, you need small and _very_ private. The whole Captain America thing would really suck if someone thought your wedding was newsworthy."

Mary-Claire shivered. "I couldn't abide publicity, Alice."

"I know, honey. However, you know that one day people will find out. Hopefully, the world won't care that much when they find out one day that Captain America has been married for years and has three kids or whatever."

Mary-Claire laughed. "I don't think that we can keep our marriage a secret that long, Alice."

"Oh, you know what I mean. Yes, honey, I can see it now: you and Cap on the front of People Magazine with an enormous star-spangled baby in your arms."

"Ugh, yes, you are sooo funny, Alice. Right, so after we leave the church, a private party in a dining room at the St Regis."

Alice snorted. "Yeah, that's Robert's contribution to the planning."

"Yes, of course, that is his decision. I know I am breaking the Southern Girl Code, but I literally don't care about any of the other wedding stuff. I just want a really incredible, perfect dress and to get married by Father Doyle to Steve as soon as possible with you, Robert, Glenn, and Sam Wilson there. Maybe just one cousin: Natalie."

"That small? And which one is Natalie? Is she one of your Aunt Amelia's daughters?"

"Oh you remember, Natalie. Really red hair and almost as short as me? Anyway, Sarabeth isn't coming and I don't want the rest of the family."

Alice stared at Mary Claire for a moment and slowly said, "You don't have any cousins with red hair...oh. Ok. _That_ cousin. Well, that should be interesting." It was another second before Alice recovered her poise and then continued, "Of course, Sarabeth isn't coming. She can't approve of anything you do. You could be a Mother Superior and she'd say it wasn't good enough. She is a prune-faced b****."

Mary-Claire replied with narrowed eyes and a steely tone, "Yes, I'm pretty furious at her, but I wish she would at least try. Anyway, I thought Steve would want more of the other Avengers there, since he says they are his friends. However, he doesn't."

Alice sighed. "Oh well, at least we don't have to deal with Irondork. He's such a freak job."

"Well…he isn't my favourite, but Steve says they are good friends. I have only spoken to Tony the once, you know, and he looked like he was having a hard time with Pepper. I feel sorry for him."

"Pepper is the only thing Stark loves more than himself. She's the only thing he even _notices_ other than himself sometimes. Pepper has both hands full with him."

After a moment, Mary-Claire replied, "Alice?"

"What honey?"

"I'm ridiculously happy."

Alice laughed and swatted her best friend playfully. "If you weren't, then I'd be very concerned."

The two friends lay side by side on Mary-Claire's bed, staring up at the inside of the huge pale green silk canopy. It was several minutes before Mary-Claire said with a slight smirk, "I already worked on my wedding monogram with Robert's assistant."

"Oh. My. Goodness. Wedding monogram before you even have the dress. Your Southern cred is still intact."

"And I informed Robert that I'm taking all of Mama's Francis I silver and the whole set of Chinese Bouquet."

"Now that's my girl. I knew you were going to take that Francis I. You always said you weren't, but I knew it."

"Well, that stuff is as ugly as sin, but it is our family tradition. What can I do?"

"Nothing, of course. Tradition is law."

* * *

Steve darted a glance over at his friend and then averted his face somewhat as he asked awkwardly, "Sam, I got something I need to ask you."

Sam looked up from tying his shoe and then stood up. "Yeah? What's up?"

Pausing for a moment as he tried to find the words, finally Steve said, "Well, Mary-Claire and I are getting married next month on the 22nd. I want you to stand up with me."

Sam sat back on the sofa and stared at Steve for a moment before asking, "You mean be your best man? Seriously, man?"

Flushing down to his collar line, Steve replied with sudden embarrassment, "Yes."

Lurching up from the couch, Sam briefly gripped his friend in a tight hug. "Of course, I'll be your best man, dude. D***, I'm happy for you, man. I know you've been worried about it. Mary-Claire is a great girl, Steve."

"That she is. I'm incredibly lucky."

"The 22nd though, that's like, what, 6 weeks away? I take it you aren't doing some big huge thing then."

Steve shook his head and shrugged. "No, just family. St Agnes Church, then dinner."

"I thought you Catholics couldn't get married that fast."

"Not usually. Luckily, Mary-Claire is a particular favourite of the priest. Also, it seems Father Doyle was right down where the worst of the Chitauri battle was, so he was surprisingly on board with an exception. The bishop has agreed. They decided to get him involved because of my age. It seems that is a thing."

Sam laughed. "Huh. You're just an old man robbing that cradle, Steve. Yeah, you better stop that now."

"Yeah, thanks, buddy."

Far too amused to stop teasing his friend, Sam smirked as he asked, "What was it that Romanoff called you? Oh yeah, that's right, a fossil."

"Yeah, a fossil. Very funny. So, I have another favour to ask of you. It comes from Mary-Claire. She wants you to wear your uniform."

Sam took a deep breath. "I am pretty happy leaving that thing in the back of my closet, Steve. However, for Riley's sister, I will do it."

"She is going to be carrying his medal in her pocket as her 'something blue'. Sorry, actually, I'm not sure I was supposed to tell you that."

"S***. Ok, yeah, I'll be in my d*** uniform and I won't even mind."

Breathing out softly, Steve added, "Thanks, Sam. I'll wear mine if it makes you feel more comfortable."

"H*ll man, do they even make that ancient s*** anymore?"

"Really humorous, yeah, I will be wearing the standard modern ASUs, Sam. I had to wear them to the White House, remember? Not my favourite day. But, if you want, we'll dress up together in our old uniforms and try not to feel ridiculous."

"Deal. It would be worth it just to see you in that ugly a** Army blue suit. Did they give you all the right medals and everything?"

Steve gave Sam a strange look. "You can't wear medals you haven't earned, so yeah."

"AAFES doesn't typically stock old s*** like that, so I just wondered."

Steve punched Sam's shoulder lightly and said, "Enough with the age jokes. buddy. Listen, you need to know that I am not announcing this to everyone. I am serious about that. You and me, Mary-Claire and her best friend, and her brother and two of her cousins. That is all that are coming. Her sister doesn't approve of me and isn't going to be there."

Sam made a loud, derisive sound and replied, "Sarabeth? Tall blond Amazon of b****iness? I remember that woman had a tongue that could scour paint off a wall. She is just mean to the bone. I have no desire to see her again."

Steve stiffly said, "Well, Mary-Claire is pretty upset."

"I'm sure she is because she is nice like that. However, I'm just telling you that you are not missing a single thing."

"I'd bear with it if it makes Mary-Claire feel better."

Casting a knowing look at his friend, Sam commented, "Mm-hm, I know. I'm surprised you aren't inviting more of the team. I think they'd want to know, Steve."

Having clearly expected this comment, Steve replied, "Yeah, I considered it. I want to keep it very simple and Mary-Claire has serious social anxiety, so it could never be large anyway. Yet, I still feel the best play for her safety is to keep our relationship extremely compartmentalised, Sam."

"You sound more like Black Widow there than Captain America, Steve. You can trust your friends with something important like a wedding. It doesn't have to make you unsafely vulnerable if your co-workers know that you are married."

Steve shook his head and set his jaw very firmly. "It has to be this way, Sam, trust me. I just have a feeling about it. Barton has kept his family protected in that way. It might be smart to do something similar for Mary-Claire."

"A farm? Seriously, buddy…"

Steve snorted. "I didn't mean on a farm. My girl needs a city. H***, she needs a car service, her private shopper at Bergdorf's, and that hair guy that comes to her apartment weekly. No, I just want to be sure she is not a target. I know you and Natasha are trustworthy. But I don't think I can let it get beyond you two."

"You trust _Romanoff_ , but not Stark or Rhodes?"

Steve looked sternly at Sam. "We can trust Natasha, Sam.

Unfazed by Steve's reaction, Sam replied, "I trust that if she was not going to work with us, that Romanoff would stab us in the front, not the back. She might even feel bad about it. Not sure I believe that she would never go against us though."

Steve shook his head firmly. "Natasha will do what she believes is right. She is no longer anyone's tool but her own. She has a lot of red in her ledger, as she says, and she needs to work that out and you got to respect that, Sam. However, she will never betray me, I believe that."

"Okay, maybe not you. You don't realise how many people would just follow you blindly out of trust, Steve. Stark has got you as his moral anchor right now, you know. He knows he f***ed up with Ultron and his bro Banner's not there. Rhodes has his Iron Patriot s***, so he's not there often either. You need to watch it with Stark. He just isn't in a good place, man, but he trusts you as much as the rest of us do."

Taking a deep breath, Steve replied, "I know he does, Sam. I am not going to fail my responsibility. Even Mary-Claire knows how it is."

"What do you mean?"

Giving his friend a piercing, haunted look that startled Sam gravely, Steve said, "When I wanted to have the Captain America conversation with her, she hijacked it to inform me that she comes second to my mission or she doesn't come anywhere near me. There was nothing I could say right; she didn't want to hear a d*** thing. Mary-Claire made it clear that she will not allow me to have to decide between my job and her. I suppose she saw ahead of time how I am and wanted to save me the pain of telling her."

Sam shook his head and sighed long and hard. "No, Steve. She just believes in you and in your mission, ok?" He dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "Sometimes she is so like Riley that it is hard to take." He stood up and walked across the room to stand at the window. "Ri was stupidly noble like that. Dumb f***er always raced off into every single battle with eyes blazing from the thrill of 'doing what was right'. Do you know how many times I _knew_ we were going to die as he made a command decision that was risky as h***? Of course, I always followed. Then every time we got back; he'd give me that hurt puppy look like "trust me now?". There was no talking to him about it, so I just didn't." He took a deep, heavy breath and said bitterly, "You know, it infuriated me what they did. That MOH submission was so redacted it was like a fabrication. Riley redefined bravery for Pararescue, but they couldn't write half that s*** down, since it was all classified. I'd never tell Mary-Claire how much of a lie that story was."

Steve continued lounging back against the sofa cushions with a deeply sympathetic look on his face. He gave Sam a moment to calm down somewhat before he replied, "She has some idea already, Sam. She asked me once if I thought that she would ever get to know the real story behind his Medal of Honour."

"You know that I can't tell her."

"I know. I was honest with her, buddy. She rarely talks about Riley, you know. I think we've only discussed him honestly twice. Once was our first date. The more I have thought about that since then, I think she was unconsciously telling me then what she expected."

Sam made a shocked sound and then watched his friend carefully for a moment. "You seriously think she was telling you that you have to live up to her dead Medal of Honour recipient brother if you want to be with her? Come on, Steve."

"I don't think Mary-Claire knew she was thinking or feeling that, but I think that is the standard that I had to match to capture her interest, yes."

They stayed there in silence for quite some time. Sam finally went back to the sofa and flopped down. After a quick look at Steve, who was staring ahead blindly, Sam said softly, "Well, you captured her interest."

Steve laughed roughly and replied, "Yep."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

As he dug into the drawer for his socks, Steve turned his head towards Sam and said seriously, "I should talk to you about some things that Mary-Claire has come across because of her work at the UN. It might be nothing, but it concerns me."

Stopping in the middle of trying to correct the angle of one of his branch pins, Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There are some who think that all Enhanced persons should have a different classification from non-enhanced humans."

Dumbfounded, Sam asked, "You mean like second-class citizens?"

"I don't know. A registration is what she heard. I got to tell you, Sam, this sounds too familiar."

Sam cursed under his breath. "Are they actually serious? They are talking about this for real?"

"Well, no one is talking about it openly, Sam. It is one of those things that Mary-Claire hears being discussed quietly, so she only knows of it because of her job. It just tells me that we seriously need to watch our backs. Those kinds of people exist in every generation, Sam. We just need to keep an eye on them."

"S***, Steve."

Steve leant against his chest of drawers and breathed out to calm himself before he said, "This is private, Sam. We cannot act on it unless we get confirmation that something real has happened, especially since we aren't even supposed to know about it. This could all be back chatter and nothing more. However, that is one of the reasons that Mary-Claire and I have now decided for certain to keep our marriage entirely private even after the fact."

"I still think you're wrong about that, you know."

"Yeah, ok, Sam. But if it is known that she married an Avenger, you don't think Mary-Claire would lose any sources of information that we might need?"

"True, but Steve…having to keep it completely secret is pretty extreme. You're even keeping it from the other Avengers. You're going to have to do a lot to make that work."

"Not _all_ the Avengers, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Obviously, you can't leave quality all-American heroes like yours truly out of the equation, but you're not even letting Romanoff come. She's kind of your go-to girl these days, no? She won't be happy, Steve."

Steve looked a little shiftily at Sam, as he replied gruffly, "That reminds me, have I ever introduced Mary-Claire's second cousin, Tatiana?"

Noticing Steve's refusal to meet his eyes, Sam uncertainly replied, "No?"

"Ah, remind me to do so. You'll like her."

Sam laughed slightly before he answered with understanding, "Okay, sure."

Then Steve sighed and continued, "I know you don't approve of the secrecy, but it is important, Sam. It preserves her work situation, but most importantly it keeps her safer."

"Y'all are taking the safety issue all too serious, Steve. Why do you think Mary-Claire is in so much danger?"

Steve cast an annoyed look at Sam as he finished tying his shoe. "Buddy, why don't you think about my life over the last few years?"

Sam shook his head and softly said, "F*** Rumlow, Steve. He's not going to get your girl here in New York City when every agency in the federal alphabet soup is looking for him."

"Would you take that risk if it was your girl, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll let you know if I get one. In the meantime, it's your call, Steve. If you and Mary-Claire decide to pretend in public that you don't even know each other, then that's your choice. I'm just here for the ride, man."

Looking very frustrated, Steve replied, "Sam, you are my best friend. I don't trust anyone more than you. Why do you think I'm talking to you about this?"

With a small smile, Sam answered, "Nah, man, I'm happy just to be Cap's partner. You call the shots and I'll follow. Please just think twice if it's going to be anywhere that someone else is actually _taking_ shots. My a** doesn't like being shot at, Steve."

"Yep, got it. I'll bear that in mind." Steve got up and headed to the kitchen. "We gotta go. We're gonna barely make it in time."

Embarrassed, Sam cleared his throat and said, "Look, I'm sorry about that, man. I should have checked before I got here. Seriously, I don't know why all my ribbons weren't still there from the last time I had this uniform on."

Steve shrugged. Picking up his dark blue ASU blouse from the back of a chair, Steve pulled it on as he replied tensely, "It's fine, Sam."

Sam stared at his friend and said slowly, "D*** it, Steve, how many of those things do you even have?"

Looking down at the rack of ribbons that nearly covered the upper left side of his dress uniform, Steve replied angrily, "Too many. What I did took less for me than it did for others. There wasn't the same risk for me, so I don't deserve that kind of credit."

Snorting sarcastically, Sam said, "Yeah, so it doesn't mean a thing, huh? You and your Howlie buddies just took a pleasant stroll amongst the daisies, right, Steve?"

Steve growled. "No, of course not, but I'm not going to pretend that I'm not different than other soldiers, Sam. Anyway, I'm just saying that I do not feel that I deserve some of the awards they gave me."

"Aw d*** it, you have one, too, don't you? F*** you, Steve."

Steve stalked away and picked up his keys but did not answer.

Sam stared in disbelief at Steve as he declared, "You actually do, but she doesn't know."

Steve stared fiercely at Sam and said firmly, "No and it will stay that way. I don't wear that one. I just wanted to save Buck. I didn't deserve an award for doing what anyone would have done—especially _that_ award. Having my best friend back at my side was all I wanted. Tell me you wouldn't have done the same for Riley."

Sam cursed. "Yes, you know perfectly well that I would have. The difference is that I wouldn't have succeeded though, Steve."

"I don't deserve to be awarded though, Sam. That's just it. I was dumb, lucky, and crazy with worry for my friend. Everything that made what I did possible was something that came out of a lab. Being a stupid idiot who was willing to become a science experiment doesn't deserve any special medal at all." Steve adjusted his tie and looked nervously at his friend, as he asked, "Acceptable?"

Sam shook his head with both sadness and disappointment. "No, I think you're an idiot. But yes, I know what you were really asking and she's going to like how you look just fine. Guess it's time to go."

Steve took a deep shivering breath and then laughed as he looked at Sam with wide, nervous eyes. "I can't believe it."

"Believe it, pal. I fully expect that I'll have about, what, five godchildren in the next few years? And now there will be someone else to make sure my friend takes care of himself for a change, so I'll get a d*** break once and a while, right? Yeah, I'm looking forwards to this."

Steve smiled and huffed with self-conscious amusement. "Okay, okay, thank you very much. Sure, it looks right?"

Sam laughed out loud. "Steve, your girl would marry you if you showed up looking like Sasquatch, but yeah, you look fine, man."

"Thanks for this, Sam."

"I don't know where else I'd be, man. I'm your… _wingman_."

Steve muttered along with him, "Wingman, yeah, yep. Great pun. Original."

* * *

The entire morning had been a blur. Dr Gampeghi had approved a larger than usual dosage of anti-anxiety medication if strictly necessary and after a galaxy-class panic attack at 3.14 am, she had done just that. The problem was that she was now almost drifting through the start of her own wedding day. She thought that first thing had been Gianni coming to the apartment to do her hair. She knew that she had eaten…something, but whatever it was had failed to leave an impression. She definitely remembered the dress fiasco, which had sent Alice off to the seamstress in the hopes that a new zipper could be sewn into Mary-Claire's dress in time for the wedding. If not…well, she had a closet full of not-wedding dresses and the world wouldn't end if she got married in pink or green. This was the sort of thing that usually would have sent her spiralling into a panic, but somehow now didn't seem important.

The door to her room opened almost silently, which was odd because Alice usually couldn't be quiet for anything. Mary-Claire sighed and turned around, ready to ask whether Graciella had been able to fix the dress. Yet, instead of Alice, another redhead was standing directly in front of her with an amused smirk on her face.

"Hello. I am your cousin Tatiana, apparently."

She didn't have a cousin named Tatiana…oh! Weird. She had imagined the Black Widow would look different somehow and act much more frightening. "Mary-Claire. Nice to meet you."

The woman asked with a half-smile, "So, Steve, huh?"

"Yep. Steve. He's wonderful, isn't he?" She could see at that the woman was allowing her to notice her amusement. Mary-Claire had to admit that she _was_ pretty out of it, so she couldn't really blame her. "Do you know Steve outside of fighting aliens and things together?"

Natasha laughed. "I do, yes. Although, not quite like you do, of course. He's absolutely crazy about you. I hope you know that."

"The thing about Steve is…well, he compartmentalises everything. Absolutely everything. I didn't have a clue how he truly felt until the day he proposed."

Her expression sobering considerably, the Black Widow nodded seriously. "That is Steve for you. I've never met anyone who was so naturally self-controlled and ruthlessly disciplined without any training at it. I think it is simply his natural state."

"You're absolutely right. But so much of that is a desire to always do what is right and never to be a burden on others. He does not trust easily either, I think."

"No, but when it is earned, Steve's trust is a special thing. I wasn't sure what to expect when I met you, but I can see why you're the one he chose."

Mary-Claire flushed. "Thank you, but he must not have told you too much about me if you can say that. I'm not the obvious choice for a superhero's wife, honestly. I had to be given a dose of diazepam sufficient to stop a rhino after an epic panic attack early this morning. Steve, according to Sam, kills planes with his shield and thinks parachutes are for wusses." She then tilted her head and smiled brightly as she added, "On the other hand, if your civil rights need defending, I can plan a legal attack like a 5'1" litigious Genghis Khan. That isn't quite a superpower, but it did earn me a nice little plastic ID card at the UN."

Natasha laughed genuinely and replied, "Now I know exactly why Steve fell so hard and fast for you. He is helpless against the power of sass."

"Well, he _is_ best friends with Sam. Amongst many other ridiculous nicknames, Riley once called him the Sorcerer of Sass. I don't remember most of the names, but that one was so stupid I couldn't forget it. I'm glad that you are here. It seems so sad to me that Steve doesn't feel he should invite your other colleagues. He thinks so highly of all of you and he is feeling really guilty at the deception."

"Steve and deception do not mix well."

"Yes, I know. He will forgive it, but only if he believes it won't occur again."

Leaning back into the little chair on which she had perched herself, Natasha said, "Honestly, Mary-Claire, Steve is an exacting commander and friend. Unlike most people like that, he holds himself to the very same standards, which is why we are all so loyal to him. Unfortunately, he is much more forgiving of others than of himself. I am glad that you love him—and it is obvious that you do—because he needs someone who understands him. He is not an easy guy. He's a great guy, but not easy."

"Not easy, no, but neither am I. I'm a handful in more ways than one, especially with my anxiety. The thing is, I don't know why anyone would want someone who was easy."

Natasha allowed a dangerous, shark-like grin to spread across her face, as she replied, "We are going to get along very well, Mary-Claire."

* * *

"I'm just saying that I don't see how you're going to fit even half of all this in your closet. Maybe you should have looked into this more before we chose this place, Mary-Claire."

She whipped her head around and stared at him with displeasure for a moment. "So, it is my fault now, is it? Do you remember the list of requirements that you gave to me for the real estate agent, Steve?"

"Uhhh, yes?"

"You literally remember everything, Steve, so I know you do. Let's see…close enough to Stark Tower that you can walk. We have to own our entire floor, so there are no neighbours. Parking must be underground and secure, but you wanted my towncar to be able to pick me up down there instead of out front. Security must be very, very tight—not just a doorman. And the only thing you specified about the apartment itself was a place for you to be able to paint. It is a miracle that Melissa even found two options and you hated the other one. So, I didn't really have much choice regarding closets and storage. It was this place or nothing."

Steve flushed bright red, as he stammered, "I-I didn't realise that I had made things so difficult, I'm sorry. I just want you safe, Mary-Claire."

She laid her hand on his shoulder and said softly, "I understand that, Steve, but your restrictions essentially guaranteed few options, ok?"

"I'm sorry. Honestly, I wish you'd said something before about how hard I was making things for you."

Stepping closer to him, Mary-Claire smiled as Steve wrapped his left arm around her. "It might be hard for you to believe, Steve, but I actually want you to be happy just as much as you want the same for me. Ok? The point is that we found a place, but there were some compromises to be made. I'd so much rather they be mine. I can purchase wardrobes to ameliorate the storage problem. Yet, we cannot create a seure basement parking garage if one doesn't already exist. All my issues can be solved, so please don't make your worried face."

Steve kissed the top of her head. "I want you to be safe and happy, Mary-Claire. That is all I want."

"Well, I am. I'm married to you, so I have all I truly want."

"Sorry that I was insensitive, dearest."

With a small crooked smile, Mary-Claire got up on her tiptoes so she could hang her arms around his neck and replied, "I promise, it's ok, Steve. We are still just working things out, right? After only two weeks of marriage, it is normal to be still figuring everything out."

He smiled more genuinely, as he replied ruefully, "Yeah, ok, I know. I just don't like arguing with you. Do you like it here though?"

Standing flat again, Mary-Claire dropped her arms so she was resting her hands on Steve's chest, as she nodded her head seriously. "So far, I am pleased. I gave pretty strict instructions to the designer and he seems to have followed through. The colours are good. I'm happy with the furniture now that it has finally been delivered. I think we'll get things in order soon enough, Steve. What about you?"

Steve shrugged. "They got my painting space right, security is good, and you are here with me, so I'm very happy, dearest."

"Mmm, me too, Steve." She responded to his kiss enthusiastically, then allowed him to sweep her up and carry her over with him to one of the super-soldier sized club chairs that had been placed under the large window of the sitting area in their bedroom. It was several minutes later that she finally commented, "I was pretty insistent about your studio space with Emilio, honestly, so it better be right for you. Is the lighting ok in there? I have no idea what an artist needs, but Emilio brought his cousin in to consult."

A little annoyed at the return to talking when he clearly wanted to continue with more romantic endeavours, Steve sighed and reassured her, "Yes, the lighting is perfect."

"Good. You should have a private space like that, you know. I know you felt guilty about using the spare bedroom for your studio, but it isn't like we need it for visitors. Once Glenn finishes moving in to my old suite in Robert's apartment, my entire remaining family will be three blocks away and Alice's building is directly across the park. Anyway, you can walk to the Peninsula from here, right?"

"I guess so, Mary-Claire. It doesn't seem right to plan to make any guests stay in a hotel when we could have made a space for them in our home. It feels inhospitable."

"Well, I admit that if I could imagine even a remote possibility of reconciliation with my estranged family, then I would probably had agreed to your plan to use the breakfast nook for your studio. But my sister couldn't even come to the wedding, so…no. You said you wanted a room where you could make a mess and not bother me with the smell of paints, so that's what I told Emilio to make for you." She smiled fondly at his still unconvinced expression and added softly, "Steve, honey, it is ok to admit what you want and ask for it." She then kissed his cheek and looked lovingly up at him before she questioned, "So, what about the kitchen?"

Steve breathed out forcefully and rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. "I think it might be larger than the apartment Buck and I had in Brooklyn, Mary-Claire. What do you want me to say?"

"I just meant to ask if you are going to be happy cooking in it. You now that I hate cooking with a fiery passion of hating hatred-filled hate."

Steve laughed with surprise and said with a huge smile, "Yes, so you have said. I don't mind cooking, dearest, but don't expect anything gourmet."

Mary-Claire shrugged. "I subsisted on cereal or canned soup rather than cook many, many times in law school. It is my most despised domestic chore. I'd rather scrub floors, you know? Glenn only discovered that I wasn't cooking for myself when he asked me one day when the stove had broken and I had to admit that I'd never even turned it on. That was my second year at Stanford Law, so he was horrified to think I'd been eating Froot Loops instead of actual nutrition all that time. Anyway, if cooking is ever a problem for us, then we can do what Robert does. He had a chef come in weekly and cook all that week's meals for us, which were then frozen for us to microwave for whenever we weren't eating out. Although, we ate out a lot, honestly. Thankfully, the housekeeper made breakfast or I'd have been indulging in my Froot Loops habit all over again. Those little rings of sugar and fluff are delicious, Steve."

Steve smiled slightly at her passion for what even he knew was a fabulously unhealthy modern breakfast food, but could not keep himself from replying firmly, "I'm not hiring someone to come in and cook my meals, Mary-Claire. I can put a little effort into figuring things out myself."

Her expression immediately sceptical, Mary-Claire said, "Well, ok, but…when do you think you'll have time for that, Steve? Before or after your 12-hour days at Stark Tower? Perhaps on those days when you go up all the way to the training facility? Or are you going to cut back on your hours?"

Steve dropped his hands from her back and leant back with a loud huff of anger as he replied, "I am a grown man, Mary-Claire, who is capable of making his own dang food, ok? It isn't like it is that hard to turn on an electric stove. Buck and I used to manage on an ancient wood burner in that old apartment we had."

Mary-Claire flushed angrily, but said nothing. Finally, she got up from the chair and walked over to the closet again. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, as Mary-Claire stood on the step stool and glared at the unruly stacks of shoes in front of her. Then, after picking up the two Sophia Webster shoeboxes that she had been attempting to wrangle before, Mary-Claire hopped back onto the stool and began futilely struggling to shove them into the furthest right stack. After several furious attempts to almost mash them into place, she suddenly burst into tears and threw the boxes onto the ground when she realised that they couldn't possibly fit.

In response, Steve jumped up and lurched forward, scooped her up in his arms, and, as he stroked her hair lovingly, said seriously, "Why don't we leave the unpacking for a bit, hm? Take a break or something?"

"Why? So, you can ridicule me and the world in which I grew up more? I'm sorry, but I do not see why it is so awful to hire someone to help. You have no free time these days. My job leaves me with very little time, too. We have enough money that we can pay an excellent wage to someone honest and trustworthy to help us out. Why does that upset you so much?"

"I was taught to take care of myself. I want to be self-sufficient."

Mary-Claire crossed her arms over her chest and said stiffly, "I see. Well, in theory that sounds good and reasonable, Steve, but, unless you are expecting me to quit my job and become a homemaker, I don't see how we can do this without some help. I know that I'm used to a life of immense privilege, but that does not mean that I am a vile oppressor of the poor or something. Some people treat their household staff horribly, but most of the people I know do not. It is not that different than any other job where you might have a terrible boss who treats you like dirt or a good boss whose employees become nearly like family. We can afford it, so why shouldn't we find someone we like, who likes us, and who is a good fit for our situation? Obviously, we would pay a very generous salary, especially due to our unusual situation."

Steve's expression became, if possible, even stonier as he ground his teeth together and gritted out, "I'm not interested in continuing this discussion, Mary-Claire. We can take care of this stuff ourselves."

"What about cleaning? Are you planning to work a vacuum in the evenings?"

"No, I guess not. This place is bigger than where they had me before. I suppose that I don't mind a weekly service for that."

"Ah. Ok. Laundry?"

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"Are you going to wash and fold the towels and that kind of thing?"

"Um, I can. I'm not good at getting around to it, but I learnt how."

"Great. So, grocery shopping?"

"Uh, I don't know, but it doesn't seem that big a deal. I just got some food at the bodega down the way before."

"Sure, it makes sense for you to get the food if you insist on cooking. I actually meant all the other things. Toilet paper, laundry detergent, paper towels, and that kind of stuff."

"I guess. You aren't planning on doing part of this stuff?"

"Nope. I intended to hire a housekeeper to do it. But you want to get by without one, so you can do all the stuff that needs to be done. My position on this has not changed. I leave for work by 6 AM and I get home after 7 PM, Steve, and that's on a good day. I will not be spending my few hours in the evening at the bodega or in the laundry room if I can help it. You are out by 5.30 most mornings and done after 7, as well. If we had no other choice, then we'd do what had to be done, obviously. Yet, we do have other options, Steve. We have the money, so why wouldn't we take advantage of that? Our lives will be so much freer if the limited time we actually do have is spent relaxing together and not doing chores."

Steve growled angrily and replied, "Fine. You've made your point. Hire whoever. I'm going to go for a run."

Mary-Claire dropped onto the closest chair and said tonelessly, "We should make these decisions together, Steve."

"Yeah, well, seems like you already decided and I'm just supposed to suck it up and go along. You're right. I don't come from your world, Mary-Claire, so I guess I'll just deal with it. You need us to do this, so we'll do it."

"I don't _need_ it. We are capable of functioning without hired help, as nearly any sane, able-bodied person is. However, I think it is logical and a sensible luxury, since we can afford it."

His eyes narrowed with fury, Steve coldly responded, "Right. Well, I think it is ridiculous. My mother took care of everything at home and worked at the same time that she was raising an incredibly sick kid, but she managed it all without outside help. There are two of us, but somehow we can't run a vacuum occasionally and make a pot of soup?"

Mary-Claire stared at him for a moment and then said quietly, "We can, Steve. I already said that. I just don't think that we need to. I believe it would be beneficial for our relationship to spend our limited time on other things, since we can. Those are different things. Your mother was obviously an incredible woman. I'm sorry that her life was so hard, Steve."

His voice was thick with misery as he responded, "There were thousands just like her then and there are women just like that now. You can't really imagine what life was like back then, or how easy you have it now."

"No, you are right. I cannot truly understand that, but I have never pretended to you or anyone that I am unaware of the immense privilege that my family's wealth has afforded me. I'm just not sure what good it does to be angry about it, Steve. I'm extremely grateful for the blessings that I have."

Steve's shoulders sagged and he turned away. "I don't know how I will get used to any of it, Mary-Claire. You are going to have to give me time."

"Did we move too fast, Steve? Should we have waited to marry? It seems like you are unhappy about some pretty fundamental things in our relationship. Most worryingly, though, is that they seem to be things that we'd never before discussed and I had no idea were even an issue for you."

Whipping around rapidly and then gazing with shock at Mary-Claire, Steve said urgently, "No, that is not how it is, dearest. I love you. I truly do, I swear it. Please, don't go doubting that again, Mary-Claire. I cannot bear to see you worrying about that again."

"I believe it, Steve; it's ok. I was not doubting that."

"You have to believe it, darling. It is the most important thing. I am terrible with words, so I cannot tell things to you the way that you should get to hear it. I'm sorry, Mary-Claire. There is just so much in my life that I have to find a way to accept or adjust to, you know. You can't imagine how much the world has changed in what is just a few years for me. I'm a dumb Irish punk from a desperately poor tenement. Now, I'm married to an elegant, educated princess and I gotta wonder how I could ever make you happy, you know?"

Stepping closer to Steve, Mary-Claire shook her head and replied, "I know that you grew up in poverty beyond what I can really comprehend, Steve, and in a time where being Irish or from the working classes could be a detriment to success. However, I'm not pretending to understand it, especially as you haven't shared much of your childhood story with me. Yet, you are hardly just a random guy pulled off the streets of Brooklyn, Steve."

Steve dropped so heavily into the club chair again that it creaked like it might break. Then he lowered his head into his hands and muttered, "I kinda was, darling. I was nobody. Dr Erskine gave me a shot to become someone different, but Steve Rogers was nothing before then, Mary-Claire."

Standing fiercely in front of him, her posture clearly shouting her sincerity even though he was not looking at her to see, Mary-Claire insisted, "You have always been someone that mattered, Steve. Bucky clearly thought so and I am sure your mother felt you were the sun and the stars. Dr Erskine didn't make you special. No, _you_ are the guy that volunteered for a wildly unsafe and untested science experiment because you were determined to help fight injustice. You're the guy who saved the survivors of the 107th from captivity pretty much single-handedly. And you dragged the Howlies all around the European continent doing crazy, dangerous commando stuff, which would never have worked if they hadn't trusted you and believed in you wholeheartedly."

"None of that was all me, Mary-Claire. I'm just a man, not some demi-god. I was only able to do any of that anyway because of a science experiment."

"Sugar, I know that you don't really believe that you are a hero. You don't feel like you live up to your personal standard for 'Captain America'. But Steve, no one else could have been 'Captain America'. The entire reason that we think of Captain America as such a hero is because Steve Rogers _created_ the role just by being himself. Any other guy would have stayed the USO performer. No other guy would have disregarded orders, regulations, and common-sense to charge single-handedly behind enemy lines after his best friend. That means that a lot of grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the men of the 107th would never have been born if you hadn't been the one chosen, since the men would not have come home from captivity. Remember that it was the men of the 107th who nominated you, you know."

Steve raised his face from his hands, his brilliant red face suddenly beginning to pale, as he stammered, "What do you mean?"

"Oh. I didn't realise that you truly believed that I didn't know, Steve. I'm sorry. It's just that Robert is the nosiest, most protective brother on the planet. He's probably the only man alive who would insist on a background check for Captain America. Anyway, he told me about a week after we were engaged, Steve. Since you wanted it kept quiet, and it wasn't my business to say anything before now, so I haven't said anything."

"I see. Well, I don't like to talk about it, Mary-Claire, since I know that I don't deserve it. I personally witnessed multiple acts of true, outstanding bravery throughout the war—all of which surpassed my own, especially as those men didn't have the benefit of being super soldiers. I owe it to all of those men to remember that I'm just a dumb schmuck who happened to have superhuman strength. They're the heroes and they didn't get to come back."

Mary-Claire laid her hand on his shoulder and replied softly, "I understand that you believe that, Steve. Yet, maybe it would do you good to think about why those men insisted you deserved that award, you know? Think about what you meant to them. Your Medal of Honour is as much for them and the ones that didn't make it back as it is for you, honey. You earned it and they deserve to be allowed to call you their hero."

Steve sighed. "It was awarded 'posthumously', which made it really weird when they read the original wording at my ceremony three years ago. But those guys, they all thought I'd died sacrificing myself on the Valkyrie, see? That changed how they viewed what happened in Azzano. Honestly, I don't want to talk anymore about it, Mary-Claire."

"Ok, we don't have to. But you questioned if you could make me happy and that I cannot simply let go. You have, you do, and you will, Steve. I think that there is as much chance of me ever not wanting to be with you as there is in me growing wings and hooting like an owl. Of course, I love you. Of course, I adore you. Of course, I'm desperately, fiercely proud of you. And of course, I want to be with you. Not Captain America—though he's a very good soldier and great superhero, I'm sure—but Steve Rogers. That is who I want."

Steve sighed. "I'm just a guy, dearest. I'm honoured that you see me that way. I'm grateful that I can be Captain America. However, I know who I am and I'm not all those things you think I am. I want to be worthy of you, Mary-Claire. I want that so much. I will do everything I can do be the man you think I am."

She took both his hands in hers and raised them to her lips. "You already are."


	12. Chapter 12

Note: This chapter is dedicated to Keith and to all the others who honourably went out, but never came back home. It may have been more than 10 years now, but you have not been forgotten. To C, I finally made it there to visit him. I do not know why it worked out completely organically that this chapter was ready to post today, but since it is…for Memorial Day, lest we forget.

* * *

"Miss Jefferson?"

Mary-Claire looked up and sighed. She hated, hated, hated having to keep her marriage a secret. If it were her choice, she would be telling every person she met that she'd married the most wonderful man on the planet. However, if anyone understood the importance of timing and how to effectively wield a detailed plan, she did. "Yes, Bernice?"

"Ms Onwuatuegwu is ready for you in the secure room."

She looked at the clock and saw that it was much later than she'd realised. "I suppose she is, but I'm not really ready yet, Bernice. There never seems to be enough time to get everything done, does there?" She began stacking up the papers in front of her with a grimace of annoyance.

Stepping forwards eagerly, Bernice asked hopefully, "Is it something that I can help you with, Miss Jefferson?"

"Thank you, Bernice, but unfortunately not. I will finish it later. Is Etienne there yet?"

"He said he was heading down when I saw him a few minutes ago."

"Ok. Well, let me slide this into my lockbox. You can put it away in the safe for me, ok?"

"Yes, ma'am. Do you want me to deliver that file to Mr Brasenose now or would you rather me wait in case you need something during your meeting?"

"Oh, no, Bernice. I need you _in_ the meeting. I'm going to make a quick phone call first and then we will walk down together."

The young woman who had served as Mary-Claire's extremely faithful assistant for nearly 3 years took a step back and stammered with awe, "Y-you want me in a meeting with you and Ms Onwuatuegwu?"

"If I cannot trust you, dear, then I am doomed. Yes, I need you there. Don't forget to leave anything electronic that you don't want damaged outside. I have killed a watch and two cell phones by leaving them in my handbag and then taking it into the secure room."

"Will it really harm my watch?"

"Better not risk it, ok? That's the one that your father gave you, right? Meet me near the elevators in five minutes."

Clearly thrilled, Bernice chirped excitedly, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Mary-Claire waved her hand to indicate that she wanted her assistant to shut the door and then pulled out the small Stark phone that Steve had given her to use with him. She smiled happily as she heard Steve's voice and then said, "It's me."

"Everything ok, dearest?"

"Yes. We're about to have a meeting."

"Ah. Well, should I expect you for dinner or do you think it will run late?"

"Late. I'm so sorry."

She could hear the deep disappointment in his voice as he replied, "I know what you're doing is important. Besides, I've bailed on you several times because of missions popping up. Don't worry about it."

"Well, at least I'm not having to travel out of the country or anything. Did you go up to the facility today?"

"Yes. It went well, actually. I'll tell you more about it later. Tatiana says hi."

Mary-Claire laughed. "She's really enjoying the subterfuge, isn't she?"

"I think she's enjoying watching _me_ wrangling with it as much as anything. I hate it."

"Me too. I suppose that's all I'm allowed to say right now. I have to go. I'll call you later?"

"Just call when you're in the car."

"I will. And… _you know_."

"Yes. Same." Mary-Claire slipped the small phone back into the special case that Etienne had given and sighed. She couldn't even risk telling him that she loved him. She was nearly certain that there was surveillance on her room. Etienne had already found two bugs in his. She had simply decided not to check and just assume. Knowing for sure might change how she acted and tip them off. Ugh. Thankfully, the little phone that Tony had given Steve was so heavily protected that it was as close to unbuggable and untraceable as any phone could be. Apparently, Tony did not monitor it though, which Steve had worried about. Otherwise, he was sure to have asked Steve why his phone travelled to and from the UN building every day when he could objectively state that Steve was not in possession of it.

She stood up and looked around the room one last time. Everything was in the safe or in her bag. The bag would go with her into the meeting room. The phone was protected in its box and in her bag. Yep. She was ready. Well…here went nothing. The first open meeting of possible conspirators.

* * *

"I have no idea why I'm nervous about this, but I am. It's silly."

Steve wrapped his hand around Mary-Claire's and pulled very gently to help her up, as he said in a very low voice, "It is not silly at all."

"I have this whole ritual, you know. Every time I come, I mean. I…I feel like I'd like it if we could follow that together. Would that be ok?"

As he closed the car door behind her, Steve said seriously, "Ok, that is perfectly fine. Whatever you need, we can do."

Mary-Claire looked up at him uneasily and asked, "But what about you? Don't you have, you know, someone here?"

It was a few moments before he replied, but Steve finally answered stiffly, "I do, but I don't think that I'm up for that today. Anyway, this is about you, my love."

Mary-Claire stopped walking and said fervently, "No, it is really more about family, Steve. You've met Robert and Glenn. I'm sorry that you will probably meet Sarabeth one day, but that can't be helped. I just want you to meet all my family, you know?"

"I do know. I do. It meant a lot to me that you went with me to the old church in Brooklyn a few weeks ago. My mother would have…she would have _adored_ you, Mary-Claire."

"From everything that you have said, she was an amazing person, Steve. It is terrible that you were deprived of her so early. However, I am sure that she knew just how special you are, so she must have been so proud of you. You were who you are long before you met Dr Erskine, Steve."

Steve laughed depreciatingly, but did not reply as he waited for Mary-Claire to put her handbag down for the guard to inspect it. They both were checked with the detector wand and then allowed through. Mary-Claire gripped his arm and whispered, "I like to ride on the tourist tram thing first. I don't know why. Robert thinks it is ridiculous of me, but then he can't even come here without a complete breakdown. Glenn is always the one who brings me."

"Don't judge him, darling, it isn't fair. We all deal with it in our own way. I once spent four hours on a bench here—totally overwhelmed and unable to do more."

Looking up at him with a stricken expression, Mary-Claire exclaimed, "Oh Steve, I'm so sorry! I wasn't thinking about your own grief and I should have. I'm so sorry. I can be so thoughtless."

Steve shook his head and merely replied softly, "Just be kind to Robert, ok?"

Dropping her head and staring down at her hands where they were clutching his sleeve, Mary-Claire said seriously, "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be mad at him. I have just wanted us to come so we could all be together, you see, but he won't. I guess that isn't fair of me."

He sighed as he said gently, "Don't discount what Glenn needs either, my love. He feels extremely left out when you and Robert are together. For him, you are both his siblings, but you both keep him out of that inner circle and it hurts him much more than you realise. Trust me, I know _exactly_ how that feels. Come on, I'll get us tickets."

While she followed him, Mary-Claire thought about what Steve had said. She knew he was referring to his relationship with Bucky and Bucky's family. It had never occurred to her that Glenn might feel that way, which horrified her. Had she really been hurting him all these years? She did feel like he was more brother than cousin, but she hadn't ever considered what that really meant. He had certainly acted much more like a very close brother to her than some of her friends' actual brothers did to them. Glenn had absolutely sided with her all those years ago even when his own mother chose Sarabeth's side of the family argument. Did Robert know how things were? She was going to have to talk to Glenn when she and Steve got back to New York.

Looking over at Steve as her thoughts came back to the present moment, Mary-Claire watched Steve as he smiled brightly at the woman at the counter and passed over a $50 bill. She looked for the moment that the woman realised who Steve actually was and squeezed his arm supportively as soon as she noticed it. He peered down at her with a small smile that told her he was quite aware what she was thinking. She was relieved to see that he didn't seem as uncomfortable as he normally did with that sort of thing.

As he led them outside, Steve asked seriously, "Do you want to get on the tram immediately or do you prefer to do something else first? What is your ritual?"

"Oh, well, yeah, the tram. I ride out and do all the little stops and then eventually take the one that goes to the stop closest to Section 60. It isn't that far from the visitor's centre, but I like to do the other stuff first and that is a lot of walking for me."

"Ok, however you like to do it."

Mary-Claire heard a strange tone to his voice and asked very seriously, "Is…it isn't too weird for you?"

Suddenly angry, Steve grunted and sat down on a bench forcefully. Looking out past her, he drawled in an unusually broad Brooklyn accent—like she had only ever heard him use when talking about Bucky or the war, "Yeah, it is weird, Mary-Claire. Very weird. They finally took up my plaque because I asked 'em to, but Bucky's is still there. Apparently, they're holdin' the place for me though. They were kind enough to tell me that—as if I was askin'. But I gotta be honest, ya know, that ain't a place that I'm too excited to have being kept for me. Both Gabe and Dum Dum are here. Two guys from my parish growing up. An American nurse who treated several of us after a really screwed up mission, who was killed during a London air raid. Colonel Phillips. At least seven guys from the 107th. I ain't lookin' to join 'em anytime soon, but I know that if things were natural that I should be. Lots of the funerals here every day are for guys younger than me."

Mary-Claire moved so she was standing in front of him and asked, "Steve, would you rather leave? I had no idea that it would be like that for you. Sometimes I forget, so I'm inconsiderate. I wish you'd say something because you know I don't want you to be hurt. We can leave. I could just come back on my own tomorrow."

"Of course not. I want to do this with you. It is hard, yes, but it is important."

"Ok, but I don't like it when you are hurting, Steve."

Steve sighed. He closed his eyes and drawled bitterly, "Yeah, well, sometimes things hurt. I can't change what's done. Come along, baby, we need to get on the tram now."

Surprised, as he _never_ called her that, Mary-Claire took Steve's hand and let him help her on and into her seat. She noticed that he had returned to his most old-fashioned manners—he was always extremely polite, but he typically made an effort to adjust to just the most formal of modern standards—and wondered how much of his mind was stuck in the past versus the present.

As a man, who was clearly a recent veteran, got on across from them, Steve shifted nearer to her and put his arm around her. Surprised, as Steve usually dropped into his Captain America persona when he saw other veterans, she allowed him to pull her closer and generally act unusually possessive as the tram started the tour.

"Where did you want to get off first, Mary-Claire?"

"Uh, Iwo Jima Memorial stop. I go to Private Christman's grave, which is near that."

The man across from them lifted his head and looked at her clearly. She smiled slightly at him and nodded in respect. The man just continued to stare at her, but Steve did not seem to notice as he quietly replied, "Ok. Why?"

"It is a tradition. He was the first ever to be buried here. One goes to honour that, but also out of the hope that one day we won't need places like Arlington anymore."

Steve huffed out a breath of surprise and replied after a long pause, "I might have had hope for that possibility once."

"Hope is a critical thing for me, Steve." Mary-Claire saw the man across from them shift his attention to Steve and understood that the man had suddenly recognised who Steve was.

Just as they reached the stop where they were going to get off, Steve turned to the man and said in a low, soft voice, "Thank you for your service, buddy."

Startled, the man said, "Uh, thank you, Cap."

Steve nodded curtly and climbed out before he held out his hand to help Mary-Claire get down. They walked silently over towards Pvt Christman's grave marker. Mary-Claire could feel the waves of misery coming off Steve, but didn't know what to say to him about it. After she had said her usual prayer and laid one of the flowers she held in her hand at the base of the marker, she sighed and said an additional silent prayer for Steve.

"I usually go to Arlington House and visit the Civil War Unknowns next. My mother's family lost two brothers who were officers in the 7th Georgia Regiment at Manassas—which is the battle where the unknowns were from—so Glenn and I usually go there."

Steve nodded, but didn't reply as he held out his arm to her. They walked slowly back and reached the tram stop just as it was approaching. Neither of them said anything as the tour guide spoke about what they were passing. When it was time to disembark, Steve again helped her off and led her around the house towards the monument. It was clear to her that Steve had visited the monument himself several times before, but she did not comment on it. This time they wandered a bit before Mary-Claire finally turned towards him and said, "I think it might be better if we stop, Steve. Let's go back and just head over to Section 60. I think…maybe it isn't a good idea to go to the Memorial Amphitheater."

Steve stopped walking and looked down at her with wide, pained eyes. "Thank you."

"That is where it is, isn't it? I just now thought about it. Audie Murphy's memorial is there, so it seems a logical assumption that…"

He interrupted softly, "Yeah. Yep."

"Oh Steve." Mary-Claire wrapped her hands around his upper arm as she hopped up on her tiptoes so she could reach his cheek to kiss it. "Please, I promise, Steve, that your feelings matter more to me than anything else I had planned to do here. I can try to figure out what you need, but I don't actually know. I'm just guessing, ok? You don't have to suffer in silence. Please talk to me about these things, so I won't keep accidentally hurting you."

Steve did not look down at her, but continued staring off into the distance for several minutes. Finally, he dropped his eyes to her face as he gripped her hand tightly and said, "Last time I was here they actually had to tell me that when it was time to leave. I sat there so long, you see, that I didn't even know that it was so late in the day. They knew it was me, so…so they didn't push me. Yet, if they hadn't said anything, then I'd have just sat there forever probably."

"Oh honey." Mary-Claire lifted his hand to her cheek and looked up at him sorrowfully. The thought of him sitting in misery for hours near Bucky's plaque was horrifying. She knew that it was next to where Steve's had once been. "If you ever do want to return, then I will go with you if that would help. You don't need to…ok, I just mean that if you need that I could keep you company. Or something."

"I can't go back to Buck's marker yet. I still haven't found him. If I go back, then I go with him. No other way, Mary-Claire."

Nodding gravely, Mary-Claire replied in the gentlest of tones, "I understand. Let's just walk for a while."

Steve jerked his head once in recognition and laid his hand over where hers was holding onto his arm. They walked together across Sheridan Drive and around until they reached Roosevelt. "I will talk to you about it one day, you know."

"If you want to and you are ready. Only then. You don't ever have to though. That is your story to tell or not as you need."

Steve grunted in recognition as he guided her onto Grant Drive. "I can see why you want to go to all those places, Mary-Claire. I don't want to diminish your experience by curtailing your ritual today."

"It won't be. Perhaps it is good that it is different today, since I'm here with you."

He looked back at her sharply from where he had been gazing as they walked. Steve then shook his head like a dog as he began to breath in and out heavily. Finally, as they approached Bradley Drive, he said roughly with a gesture at the signpost, "I never liked him. Most the guys did, but I didn't."

Mary-Claire asked with confusion, "Who? General Bradley?"

"Nah, General Bradley was ok. Better than Patton, ya know. I meant President Roosevelt. Most people where I lived thought he was gonna finally get us working class fellas a square deal, but I never trusted that. He seemed to be too willing to trample on the Constitution to get things done, which was proven true when he interned the Japanese. Later when I fought alongside Morita, I learned just how horrible it was, too. It shocked me how willing everyone was to go along with it like Japanese-Americans were all spies. I mean, I am basically one minute removed from County Westmeath, right? Would someone expect me to pick Ireland over America if the _Dáil Éireann_ suddenly declared war on America?"

"I agree. That was such a horrible, shameful part of our history, Steve. I suppose, I just hope that we learn from our mistakes. I think that—for the most part—we do. Things improve over time, but that doesn't make it fair for those who are hurt in the meantime. My home state has some very rough, ugly things in its history. Nevertheless, I still believe that at our heart we are a great place and a good people and that we _will_ get where we should be in time."

Steve shrugged his shoulders and said stiffly, "I do have hope in individual persons even though I am too often disappointed in people as a group. I'm not a pessimistic person by nature, Mary-Claire. I've always wanted to fight to make things better because I do have hope. I've just struggled to find my way in this time. I had hoped for better by now."

"I know, Steve. Like you said yesterday when we were talking to that friendly gentleman as we were sitting on that bench near the Wall: humankind still persists in making so many of the same mistakes."

Steve stopped walking and lifted Mary-Claire's hand to his lips. "Yes, but I didn't mean that your uncle's death in Vietnam wasn't important. Wars are ugly, but they've been happening since mankind was sent out of Eden. I didn't expect that to change, my love. All of us fighting in the war back then, we just assumed that we'd be so much further than this by now."

Mary-Claire had begun walking purposefully as they reached the borders of section 60. She knew that her hand was shaking, as Steve laid it against his cheek gently. "I know, me too. Every generation hopes for that, I think, Steve. It's down there a few more."

"Do you want me to wait over here for a bit and join you when you are ready or come with you now?"

"Come now?"

"Whatever you need, my love. I just want to make this right for you."

Mary-Claire nodded. "May I have the bag now?"

Steve handed her the backpack that he had been carrying. They walked into the middle of the row and stopped in front of the grave marked: Riley Joseph Jefferson, Medal of Honor, CPT USAF, Operation Enduring Freedom, Operation Iraqi Freedom, 11 July 1970 – 20 September 2010, Beloved Brother, Under Our Lady's Protection.


	13. Chapter 13

Note: As mentioned in the note at the very beginning of this story, this is a companion piece to a Bucky Barnes focussed story: "Marsaxlokk". The last portion of this chapter is when the two stories finally merge. They will contain mostly their own plotline still, but the characters from each will be in both stories. In some cases, like the last section of this chapter, the dialogue is the same from a scene in the other story, but the internal monologues and descriptions are very different (in this case, one is Bucky's and the other is Steve's view of the same event.) If you want to see the same scene through Bucky's eyes, it is in Chapter 19 of "Marsaxlokk". Although it is not at all necessary to read "Marsaxlokk" in order to understand this story, they are definitely related and intertwined.

* * *

Chapter 13

Steve flipped through his sketchbook quickly until he came to the page he wanted. He loved the curve of her shoulder when she looked back at him like that. When she gave him that special smile that made his heart thunder from the ache of his desperation. He stared in the low light at it for some time and then leant back into the stiff, narrow loveseat with his eyes closed. He was a hurricane inside, but he couldn't let it out. This was the largest that the disaster inside him had ever got. He had spent so long containing it—all the misery, grief, rage, fear, despair, hope, desire, jealousy, and passion—all underneath his stoic exterior. So long. Any crack in the armour might prove enough to break him, so he didn't see any way to change now.

Peggy had never understood much, but then he'd hardly shown her anything. Mary-Claire only saw what he opened up for her to see, which was more than he'd ever done for anyone else. The only one who truly ever knew the real, intensely emotional Steven Rogers was Bucky. He'd never needed to explain anything to Buck, since they just knew what each other was thinking or feeling somehow. That kind of brotherhood only came around with a pal once in a lifetime. Sam was perceptive enough to understand a lot—more than anyone else in his life. Yet, unlike Bucky who never let him get away with anything, Sam was usually willing to remain quiet about anything he knew Steve truly wanted to keep hidden. Unfortunately, Steve knew he didn't have quite the same understanding of his friend in return. It wasn't fair to Sam and Steve really needed to rectify that. He had expended so much energy towards searching for Bucky and then towards recklessly, almost hopelessly pursuing Mary-Claire. He was not being fair to Sam and his friend deserved much better.

Steve looked over at his sleeping wife—wife was a word that he still couldn't believe he was now allowed to use for her—and wondered if he was going to be able to give her what she needed. He would burn the world to give her anything at all. However, she had no idea how broken and rough he was inside and he would do _a_ _lot_ to keep it that way. She didn't need to deal with that…with his particular brand of stupid.

He had expected the nightmare tonight after their visit to her brother's grave. Actually, he hadn't even thought he would be able to sleep, since he had just laid there watching her for so long. But he must have finally drifted off, since the nightmare came on so strong that he had actually not recognised her for a full minute when he woke. Why did it have to be that particular one? Well, he knew why, but it was too cruel.

"Steve?"

Steve reacted immediately, standing up and walking back over towards the too-small hotel bed. "Yeah? You ok, beautiful?" He could see that Mary-Claire was trying to peer through the dark to see him. He sat down next to her and placed his arms all the way around her.

"What were you doing?'

Not really wanting to reply, he kissed her forehead before forcing himself to say something even if it was such a partial truth it was nearly a lie. "I was not able to sleep, but I didn't want to wake you so I was sitting over there."

"I'd rather you were with me regardless."

He laughed slightly. "Well, now that you are awake, then I will be. It is still hard to believe that you are really mine. It doesn't feel like it has been half a year."

Mary-Claire sighed and said, "I know. A six week engagement sounded fast, yet it went by so slowly. However, six months of marriage has rushed by so quickly it's frightening. I wish we had more time together before they are expecting you back. Ten days is not enough, especially not for a seriously delayed honeymoon."

Steve ran his hand along her hair and said softly, "I know, but neither of us can risk more without someone questioning where we are. Are you still glad we came here? It isn't the most romantic of locations and we've spent half the time at memorials."

"Yes. I needed to bring you to Riley and this was the only way to do it. We have the next five days to do more romantic things, right?"

"Of course. I can't really believe that we are finally able to _act_ like we are married when we're in public. Even if it is only for a few days. You don't know how much I want to let everyone know that you are mine. Are you happy, my love?"

Her voice breathy with nerves, Steve heard her uncertainty as Mary-Claire replied, "So happy, Steve. I love you. But are you?"

He lowered his head so that he could kiss her deeply and keep eye contact. "I don't think happy is even a strong enough word, Mary-Claire. You have changed me."

He heard her little gasp of surprise and then felt her arms slide around his neck. He allowed her to pull him closer and, just as she tried to press her lips on his, he brought himself down so their hands were intertwined and he was kissing her like a wild man.

* * *

"I don't understand why you don't want me to go, Steve. I should be there for you afterwards."

Steve looked uncomfortably at his hands as he said stiffly, "It is the way I need to do this, Mary-Claire. Sam will be with me. I won't be alone."

"No, of course not. Sam won't ever let you deal with something alone, I know that. Is this still because you want me kept in the shadows for my safety? Or is there something else happening?"

He sighed angrily. "You know it is, Mary-Claire. Now more than ever. The press will be there taking pictures of every expression I make. It's the kind of news that sells: Captain America's tragic love story. They should be focussing on Peggy and all of her accomplishments. She got married. She had a family. Whatever I felt for her long ago has no importance today compared to any of that."

"I understand that, Steve. However, she is still important to you, so I'm glad that you can go. They will report whatever they want regardless of your actions, so you might as well do what you feel is right anyway. I had thought that I could just be in the hotel there waiting for you. No one would see me there. I just worry about you being alone that evening afterwards."

"You can't. We can't, Mary-Claire. We just can't. D*** it. It is getting bad, isn't it? These Accords are going to make everything extremely difficult and risky for us. Tony, Rhodes, Vision, and Natasha are signing."

Mary-Claire looked almost as angry as Steve when she replied, "Well signing this document is nearly the most foolish thing they can do! I've read every version as it came out. It has just gotten worse with each iteration. You would be giving up everything. It nearly makes you a criminal just to be an Enhanced. If you stop a mugger without formal permission, you are technically breaking the law. If you were to accidentally knock over a display at Target with your super strength, then it could be deemed an international incident. It is one of the most poorly written bits of legislation that it has been my misfortune to read and that is really saying something, since I work for the UN. Not only that, Steve, this is all purposely done."

Steve nodded and looked at her with sadness. "I know that you couldn't tell me more beforehand. I didn't understand the warnings that you gave me in the way you hoped."

"I tried so hard to slip in words of caution here and there, but I truly am bound by both my professional code and the law from saying more than I did. There are a lot of people who are deeply concerned about the Accords. There are 23 people in my consortium currently working against this, in fact. That is incredibly secret information, Steve. A few of our conspirators are risking more than jail if we are outed."

He nodded understanding. "I know. I wish it were different. It definitely turned out to be the right thing to keep our marriage a secret, didn't it?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I couldn't explain more to you then, but I understood even more than you did how necessary it was. I just don't like it."

"Me neither. We will be able to tell everyone one day, dearest, and when we do, I will be very, very public about it. I love you so much, you know."

She smiled and sighed gently as he put his arm around her. "Yes. I love you, too. Do you think that you'll be back in time to go to the ultrasound with me?"

"I want to be, but…I just have a feeling. I think that something major is about to happen. It might just be a mission. I don't know. I can't put it into words better than that."

"Well, Alice is still down with her mother and Robert won't be back from South Carolina until Friday, but Glenn can go with me."

Steve's face was red with frustration as he tried to control his emotions. "Of course, he'd do anything for you, wouldn't he?"

"He is like my brother. He is family—my cousin. There is no reason to be jealous of him, Steve."

He growled aggressively. "Can't help it. This could not be worse timing. You do know how much I want to be there for the ultrasound, don't you?"

Mary-Claire kissed his cheek gently. "Yes, I do know, Steve. Do you think that your email address is still secure?"

"No. If Tony signs the Accords like he says he will, then I don't trust that anything from Stark is secure anymore. Why?"

"Well, I could have sent you the pictures that way. They can do that these days."

Steve shrugged and looked at her with bemusement, "Baby, back in my day, ultrasounds weren't even a thing. You waited until the child was born to see if it was a boy or a girl. You usually didn't even have a clue it was twins beforehand. Twins."

"They said that they _think_ it is twins. The hormone levels are high. We'll find out more when they do the ultrasound though. You can still call me, right?"

His eyes blazing with intensity as he kissed her forehead, her nose, and then both cheeks, Steve thickly replied, "Even if the four horsemen of the apocalypse arrive, I'll find a way. I'm sorry that I have to go do this now, Mary-Claire."

"I understand though. I really do. I also know that when you don't sign, then they are going to work to find a way to make an example of you. I've been thinking and planning around that for a while."

Steve shook his head. "If they do, then I cannot stop them. I just have to do what is right."

"Well, if you didn't, then I could never respect you again, Steve. I just want you to be prepared for what is coming. It is going to get so ugly."

He placed his arms around her. "Are you disappointed?"

Mary-Claire gasped. "Disappointed that you are pursuing your conscience? Do you think I would want you to do something else?"

"I need to be sure, beautiful. This affects you, too."

"Yes, it does. And I need to know that my husband is honourable and pursues what is right regardless of consequence. If I were ever to be the reason for you doing less than that, Steve, then I could not live with it."

He placed both hands on either side of her face and leant in to kiss her deeply. Finally, he pulled away and replied, "I can never deserve you, my darling. Thank you."

"I wish you didn't think that, Steve. To me, you are the amazing one. I love you so much."

Steve smiled with a depth of sadness that she had never seen him openly display before. "I love you, my dearest. Hopefully, I will be able to see you in Geneva soon."

She nodded. "I suppose you understand my insistence on purchasing the home there now."

"I do. I do, beautiful. I wish we hadn't argued about it. You already have an enormous amount planned, don't you?"

"I had to, Steve. I'm not letting these bastards stop us. If I don't hear from you before next Tuesday for some reason, then you know where I will be. If…if the worst happens and you cannot come home, then I intend for the babies to be born there. Switzerland has refused to consider the Accords at all."

Steve allowed his emotions to show in the distraught expression that he turned on her. "That's five months away, dearest. I don't care what happens, but I will be with you for that, at least."

"Don't make promises that you do not know whether you can keep. My position doesn't start at the Geneva office for three weeks. If you can go to Geneva right after you leave London, then we could have some time there without interruptions."

Steve stammered, "You-you already took a job there? Without talking to me about it?"

"You and I agreed on plausible deniability, remember? You told me that whatever I had to do, that you trusted me. I knew you wouldn't sign these Accords, Steve. Yet, I had to plan ahead for the move, so it looked unrelated to the Accords so no one would look too closely at my actions. I couldn't risk anyone knowing why I was really leaving New York, not until the plan actually dictates us taking things public. Sam will follow your lead all the way to Mt Doom, Steve, but I think he may be the only one. Natasha warned me that she is planning to sign and that Stark was obsessed with making the Avengers subject to the Accords legislation. I admit that I had hoped she wouldn't, but I'm not surprised."

"I'm still holding out hope that Natasha won't sign."

"Steve. Natasha has to make her own way, as do you. I will follow you, no one else. So, I can continue my job in Geneva easily without anyone knowing why I wanted to be there. Technically, you see, the move is a promotion. I started seeding the ground ages ago with remarks implying my dissatisfaction that I wasn't getting enough recognition. So, when they offered me this position, I pretended to take it as a springboard to 'bigger and better' things. I've lost quite a few friends over it, so I'm pretty sure that no one has caught on to my real intentions."

Steve laughed ruefully and looked down at Mary-Claire with misery in his eyes. "I am glad that you use your powers of manipulation only for good, dearest. Did you know that Natasha calls you 'the little ловкачка'? She wouldn't tell me what it means, so I asked Clint. He got pretty cagey, but finally admitted that it is Natasha's favourite of Clint's nicknames for her. I think it means trickster or something like that. Natasha really likes you, you know."

Mary-Claire nodded. "She calls me that to my face, actually. She knows how much I hate all this deception and misdirection, so I think she is trying to tell me that she respects me for it. I never told her that our consortium is working to tear down the Accords. I think she probably knows, but she didn't say anything. However, she approves of my move and she laughed when I told her why everything thinks I'm doing it."

Steve groaned and kissed the top of Mary-Claire's head. "I don't like anyone thinking badly of you." He held her tightly for another minute and then said, "Natasha is loyal to me, but that doesn't mean she would go against her conscience on the Accords. I just don't think it would mean she would turn on me either."

"That is why I didn't explain the plan. I wish I could have her look it over, since I think she'd be a great help. Yet, it is unfair to place that burden on her. She has enough secrets to keep, especially since she doesn't agree with you this time. I won't be alone in Geneva though, ok? Glenn is going to help me with the move. Robert wanted to be the one, but I told him that would look suspicious, since Robert doesn't travel. He's actually kind of known for it. So, Glenn will stay until I am settled. However, I'm not leaving yet."

Suddenly uneasy, Steve asked, "Why? What are you planning?"

"It is better if you don't know, Steve. You will definitely not approve."

His stern look returning, Steve demanded, "Then you need to tell me now."

"I don't think you want to know. I will tell you if you really insist, but I promise that my play here is important to our long-term goal. I have worked extensively with Đukanović and Triquell for two months on this part of the plan."

Steve shook his head. "I don't like being out of the loop on this, Mary-Claire. This affects my wife and my unborn children."

"Yes, I understand, Steve. It is your right to know, so I will tell you if you ask me to. Do you want to know the plan?"

Taking a very deep breath, Steve said finally, "I will trust you. And I have to leave. Sam is on the way up."

"You have on your coms in here? Ugh! Can we really not have privacy for a few moments, Steve?"

Looking guilty, he leant in and pulled her up for a deep, passionate kiss. "He can't hear me, dearest, which is good because I got something I want to tell you that Sam definitely doesn't need to hear."

* * *

Steve stared at Bucky, willing his face to keep from betraying his emotions, as he watched his friend to be sure that he really was back. Whether the Winter Soldier had been caged again or not. The story he'd told was real enough. He knew it was truly Buck, but…the ferocity of Bucky's expression was, honestly, pretty d***ed concerning. That was why he'd sent Sam out of the room to make the call. "Ok, Buck. I can see you have something else to say."

Bucky's eyes were haunted and a wave of pain washed over his face before he replied gruffly, "I want to trust you, Steve. I really do. However, this isn't about me and it isn't about this mission."

There was no time for this! Sam would be back at any moment and he, no they, needed to reconcile where things stood now. Speaking more sharply than he intended, Steve insisted desperately, "I can't go ahead on trust with you if you are hiding something, Buck. I've got to know."

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. Steve actually recognised the moment when his friend had decided to acquiesce. He knew that look. He could insist all he wanted that he was more Winter Soldier than Bucky Barnes, but Steve knew better. Finally, Bucky replied in a defeated voice, "My wife and son. They were gone before you got there?"

What? His…his what? Steve barely gasped out his reply, "Your wife and son."

Bucky's eyebrows raised slightly, as he said succinctly, "Yes."

Steve groaned and allowed himself to toss a very fed up look at his old friend, as he exclaimed, "Aw s***, Buck. The auburn-haired girl with crutches?"

However, Steve was unprepared for the instant aggression that possessed his friend. Before Steve could process what was happening, Bucky jumped out of his chair and growled in a feral voice, " _How do you know_? She was there? Did they take her? Where. Is. She. Steven?"

Which…yeah, Bucky's fear was fair. He himself had been in a constant state of stress for whenever someone finally found out about Mary-Claire. He'd do nearly…no, honestly, he _would_ do anything to keep her safe. He couldn't imagine Buck being any different. Steve lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender and replied very carefully, "Calm down, buddy. She wasn't there. They don't even know she exists. I wasn't aware either."

Bucky's eyes narrowed, as he demanded suspiciously, "Then how did you know what Thea looks like?"`

Steve closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. Buck was not going to like this. "Because Sam and I had a lead when we were trying to find you. There was a doctor in Algiers who was very eloquent about a crazy Russian man who had a very beautiful wife that had been quite sick."

Just as Sam came back into the room, Bucky punched the wall furiously and growled, "Я знал, что этот гребаный доктор хотел мою красотка. Черт, как это дерьмо происходит?"

And, of course, that is when Sam stepped back into the room, protectively moving to Steve's side as he asked uneasily, "Cap?"

With his eyes trained closely on Bucky, Steve tried to ask in a calm, yet commanding voice, "Are you in control, Buck?"

Almost immediately backing down, Bucky nodded. "I knew that d*** doctor was a security concern."

Sam asked uneasily, "Are we talking about Berlin or…"

With a warning look at Sam, Steve replied, "That lead in Algiers? That actually was Bucky."

Flabbergasted, Sam exclaimed, "Son of a b****! So, the girl?"

Bucky replied angrily, "My wife. She and my son should be safe if she escaped when I called."

Sam punched out at the wall and exclaimed, "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

Merely casting an extremely unimpressed look at Sam to indicate his utter unimportance, Bucky then turned his entire focus onto Steve and said, "We planned and practised for this. She knew the protocol and I was able to alert her as soon as I realised that we were compromised. She and my son should be on the way to the safe house."

Steve saw the unease and uncertainty in Bucky's response, so he carefully said only, "Then we can leave them out of the equation, right Buck?"

The fury and belligerence returning just enough to his posture that Steve knew it was more for Sam's benefit than for his own, Bucky replied, "They are _not_ involved."

Sam looked thoroughly unconvinced. "Cap, you are ok just accepting this? How do we know who this girl is? I don't know that she isn't working with them, do you?"

Before Steve could reply, Bucky stalked over to Sam and placed his face mere inches away. Annoyed that Sam was almost purposefully antagonising Bucky, Steve did not interfere, as Bucky growled, "If you ever imply again that my wife would work for HYDRA or any other similar group, then you won't ever fly again, Bird Boy. Are we f***ing clear? She is a non-combatant."

As soon as he saw Bucky's left hand move slightly, however, Steve warned firmly, "Bucky."

His fists immediately relaxing and posture pulling back, Bucky twisted around to look at Steve for a moment. Steve saw the recognition in Bucky's eyes, so he nodded his head very slightly to give permission. So, Bucky turned back to Sam and snarled, "Watch your mouth. I won't let it go again." Then he walked back to where he had previously been standing on the other side of Steve.

Steve could see that Sam knew he'd stepped over the line and was not going to push things further. Therefore, Steve relaxed slightly and said, "Looks like we have a lot to talk about later, Bucky. However, I agree. Your wife is not involved, so we don't need anyone but we three to know about her."

Sam snorted and looked at Steve in the way that always made Steve feel like he was just being humoured. Jeez, come to think of it…Buck used to act like that, too, which always drove him crazy! Unaware of Steve's realisation, Sam smiled a bit, as he raised one eyebrow and commented, "Sounds familiar."

Bucky looked between Steve and Sam with uneasiness and, finally, turned back to Steve with an expression that told Steve clearly that an answer was required. If Steve had ever worried that the years and bizarre experiences of their life since the war might have significantly changed things between he and Bucky, well, no need to worry anymore.

Honestly, if he couldn't trust Buck with the secret, then who could he trust? Steve took a deep breath before he admitted, "I have kept my own marriage a secret from the rest of the Avengers. Sam does not approve." Avoiding the smirk that he saw on Bucky's face—clearly, Buck had an opinion about his marriage just like he always had about everything Steve did—Steve turned back to look at Sam. Sam seemed to think this was hilarious. He would. Steve decided to face Bucky again and said, "It is time for us to get moving."

With a shrug, Bucky began to follow both Sam and Steve, but on the way out of the old warehouse, Bucky muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear, "So you actually found someone to marry you, huh, punk?"

Surprised, Steve grinned slightly as he replied, "Yep. Did it without your help and everything, too."

Bucky laughed roughly. "Look at us heroes, huh? Only took us a few decades."

Steve gave Bucky a knowing look and softly replied, "Just had to wait for the right girl, Buck."

Wow, Steve had watched Bucky take dozens of girls out on dates over the years, but he'd never expected to see _that_ degree of intensity and desperation on his friend's face. No girl had ever come close to tying Bucky Barnes down. Yet, whoever this Thea was, she clearly held Bucky's heart completely in her hands. Steve just hoped that she loved Buck even half as much as he clearly adored her.

Finally, Bucky whispered his reply coarsely, "I sure did."

* * *

AN: Thank you, PrincessStarberry, for your continued reviews of my story. It genuinely makes my day to receive feedback! I am so glad that you have enjoyed what I have written so far. :-)


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Out of the bed and on the floor! Now! Now! On the floor!"

Mary-Claire sat up in her bed groggily, stared up at the four men with flashlights shining in her face, and screamed. She screamed so loudly that her little dog jumped off the bed and started barking like crazy.

"On the floor! Down on the floor!"

She continued screaming in terror as she huddled away from them and stared into the bright lights of the SWAT team that were surrounding her bed. She was then roughly pulled from the bed and pushed down on the floor where she was held by one man as the others swarmed around and shouted things that did not make sense to her. Finally, she started hyperventilating so hard that the man who was holding her down called to his superior. However, by the time that someone came over to her she had passed out.

"Who the f*** is the woman, Williams?"

"I don't know, sir. She was in the bed and just screamed and screamed. I don't think she was resisting. She was just terrified."

"Well serves her right staying in the apartment of a fugitive. She should have expected we would come here. Well, we're going to have to get her up. Did anyone call for a bus?"

Another man called over, "Just radioed, Captain."

"Oh, s***, she's pregnant, too. Who the f*** is she? Why didn't we have any information on someone living with Rogers?"

"Hey, Captain! Over here."

The man hurried over and saw a stack of banker's boxes filled with papers. "Take them. And that computer."

"Captain, I think she might be Rogers' wife."

"What?"

The man pointed to the enormous engagement ring and diamond encrusted wedding ring. "Well, sir, wedding rings."

The man in charge looked incredibly annoyed. "Well, f***. Someone in City Hall royally screwed the pooch on this one. Well, S**. OK, well, someone get a blanket over her for privacy, since that nightgown there probably isn't meant for us to see. Uh, better take those cuffs off, Johnson. The last thing we need is for a story to get out that Steve Rogers' pregnant wife was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and arrested. Ludlow, what do you have over there?"

"Not much, sir. This place is really clean. Other than a few of this woman's belongings and a small amount of Roger's clothing and toiletries, it is like they don't really live here. It is too clean."

"Interesting."

"Bus arrived, Captain."

"Send them up. Don't leave anything overlooked. You don't know what kind of information they might have on Barnes, too. She can't be a total innocent."

At that moment, Mary-Claire awoke and screamed when she saw the two men dressed in black with guns standing over her. "Who are you? Why are you in my apartment?"

"We are executing a warrant, ma'am. And your name is?"

"My name is Mary-Claire Rogers. May I ask why you needed to barge into my home in the middle of the night?"

"Now, ma'am, we can talk more downtown. We have EMTs here to examine you. If you would just let them tend to you, then we can talk more in a moment."

"Hey, hey, wait! What are they doing? Those boxes are confidential documents. Unless those are specifically mentioned in your writ, you cannot take those. I am a UN attorney and those files are privileged."

The captain cursed under his breath and shouted, "Stop! Ludlow, have any of those boxes left yet?"

"Yes, sir, four of them."

"Tell Ramirez to wait. We have to look inside and make sure they fall within our warrant. They might be privileged. We might need an AUSA to come look at them before we can determine what can be taken. Or someone from the State department or something. F*** if I know."

"But sir…"

"But nothing. Some kind of UN bulls***. I don't know. Just call for an AUSA, ok? Tell the guys not to move the boxes any further and to just wait."

The EMTs came over and started tending to Mary-Claire, who was holding the blanket up to her chest protectively. It was a while before the EMTs determined that she was going to need to go to the hospital. In that time, the SWAT team had nearly torn the apartment apart looking for anything useful but had found nothing at all.

Finally, a female police officer arrived, who went with Mary-Claire to help her get dressed. During that time, Mary-Claire made nearly a dozen calls, some of them to names that the young police officer had only read in the news.

* * *

Bucky's voice was full of amusement as he insisted, "So, time to tell me all about Mrs Rogers, Steve."

Steve's shoulders tensed and he hesitated before he turned away from the controls of the quinjet. So they were doing this now, were they? "Maybe so, but you aren't going to get away without telling me about your wife."

Bucky waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, ok, so talk."

How was he going to explain Mary-Claire in a way that made sense? Incredible was accurate, but not very descriptive. "Uh, she's an international human rights attorney at the U.N. and so intelligent and well read that she can be intimidating." Steve groaned inwardly. Good going, Rogers. Not the best way to start.

His eyes twinkling, as if he knew exactly what Steve was thinking, Bucky snorted with amusement. "Sounds great."

Steve laughed with relief. "Shut up, Buck."

Bucky shook his head and punched Steve in the arm, just the way he used to do. "I'm only teasin' ya, idiot. You always did go for the ones that were outta your league. So, is she a New Yorker?"

"No, she's from South Carolina. She is the sweetest girl I've ever met, Buck, and I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. I almost didn't talk to her because she's so beautiful that I was terrified." Steve looked over at Bucky with a combination of embarrassment and affection, as he said, "Luckily, Sam helped me out kinda like you woulda done if you'd been there."

He could see that Bucky knew what he meant from the almost fond smile on his face. Then, Bucky replied with a shrug, "You never could talk to girls, Steve. I hope your wife has finally convinced you that you're a great guy and so much more than a government science experiment."

"Yeah, I guess so. She clearly thinks so. I'm luckier than I deserve."

Bucky tossed him a glare that told him exactly what he thought of that statement. "What's her name?"

"Mary-Claire."

"Yup, sounds right for South Carolina. Thea is English: Theodora Letitia Marie Worthing Arnwell."

Steve laughed as he answered with a thick Brooklyn drawl, "D***, Buck. And you the guy who never stopped teasing me about Peggy being British."

Bucky closed his eyes and breathed out slowly for a few moments. Then he looked back at Steve seriously, as he explained, "Yeah, well, Thea is special. Anyway, she's ten times smarter than me, honestly. Her PhD is in Spanish religious art and she was working at the Prado at one time. Now she's been moving from one tiny, s*** apartment to another tinier, even more s*** apartment all around Eastern Europe with me. Now that they think I bombed that place, she won't be able to leave the safe house."

Hearing both the intensity of Bucky's devotion to his wife and his self-hatred at having put her in a difficult position, Steve laid his hand on Bucky's arm and asked quietly, "Where is she, Buck?"

Bucky replied suspiciously, "Need to know basis, Steven, and _you_ don't need to know."

Steve shrugged. Bucky had always been secretive about the things that mattered most to him. This wasn't much different. He changed the subject slightly. "How the h*ll did you even manage to legally marry her while on the run? Or did you use false names?"

"I wouldn't do anything cheap like that with Thea, Steve. Our marriage is real and legitimate. You figure it the f*** out, Steve. Come on."

Steve closed his eyes and huffed out a surprised breath. Wow. Marsaxlokk. He'd even gone there—without Sam though, since Malta had belonged to his memories of the Howlies. Buck had hated Malta. But…yeah, Bucky and Dum Dum had been the ones to come up with the pact. That was why Steve had gone all the way there after all—despite being almost certain that it was a pathetically desperate hope. He finally replied flatly, "Oh. Was the box still there?"

Bucky nodded and seemed surprised as he responded, "Yes. I know you must have gone there when you were looking for me. Didn't ya try to find it?"

Alone? Without Bucky? "No. I…no. I don't think that I could have handled looking at all the stuff the other fellas put in there. There hasn't been enough time, you know? It is decades for everyone else, but just a few years for me. Monty was almost 90 when he died, Buck. Morita was 87. Dernier was 93. I haven't begun to process any of that stuff, Bucky, you know? I just can't do it yet."

Bucky replied quickly, almost as if he had needed to discuss this, too. "Yeah, I get it, Steve. I looked them up, too. I think reading about Dugan being gone upset me the most. I liked that stupid bastard."

Dum Dum, huh? Apparently, Bucky wasn't ready to talk about Gabe. So, sure, they could pretend that reading about how Gabe died wouldn't have been a knife in the heart for them both. Steve finally said with a sigh, "Apparently he took over after I 'died'."

"Well with you and me gone, they didn't have any more brains so…sure. Brute force wins, right?"

Steve smiled. That was the familiar banter that Buck and Dum Dum had always thrown at each other. Shaking his head, Steve remembered the incredible force of life that had been Timothy Dugan and felt a crushing sensation in his chest as he muttered, "You hated his hat."

Bucky snorted and made a rude gesture. "Well f***, Steve, everyone hated his hat."

Laughing in spite of himself, Steve replied, "True. So no, I didn't want to touch that stuff, Buck. I couldn't. I saw that they rebuilt the church."

He could tell that Bucky knew exactly what he was thinking and, typically, was saying just the right thing to make it easier for him. Jeez, did he ever do that for Buck? Was it always Buck supporting Steve at the expense of himself? Steve looked up with anxious embarrassment at Bucky, who sighed again and kicked his boot heavily into Steve's shin. Just like he'd done that time in Sister Margaret-Mary's office when Steve had been about to take the blame for _everything_. How did Bucky always know, anyway?

Bucky grinned cheekily and said, "Yep, but it don't look the same, you know. That's where Thea and I got married."

Steve looked askance at Bucky and drawled, "Yeah? Ironic."

Suddenly leaning forwards as if it were of the utmost urgency that Steve believe him, Bucky insisted, "Nah, I'm telling you, Steve, that wasn't me. That was Frenchy. You know I didn't do that s***."

Steve laughed loudly. Sgt Barnes had used just that voice and probably very nearly those exact words when swearing himself blue outside the Mayor of Marsaxlokk's house to Captain Rogers that the whole 'incident' had not been his fault. Steve had never understood why Bucky was so sure that Steve would believe it was. Of course, he'd believed Bucky was innocent. Buck was irreverent, but he would never have done anything off-colour in a church. "I _know_ that, Bucky, but we got kicked out of the church because of it."

Bucky grunted with irritation. "Well, funnily enough, I didn't share that particular anecdote with the old priest there. I think he had enough to deal with when he heard my confession. Took two days."

Steve stared in horror at Bucky as he realised that Bucky meant that he had confessed all of the Winter Soldier's sins to some poor old Maltese priest. He didn't know who it would have been a worse experience for: the priest or Bucky. Thea must be an incredible girl for Bucky to be willing to undergo that ordeal just to make a Church marriage possible. Or else Bucky's faith had found a resurgence. Steve remembered just how desolate Bucky had been when he'd admitted that night in San Sebastiano how he didn't feel capable of receiving the Eucharist anymore until his doubts could be resolved. "Wow, Buck."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and said forcefully, "Yes." He slumped back into his chair as he continued, "However, I didn't have any other choice because we weren't getting married anywhere other than a Catholic church. Thea is more religious than my Aunt Beatrix was. You remember her?"

So, he'd done it for the girl. It shouldn't surprise him, not really. Bucky had always been willing to do anything for the ones he cared about. After whatever fresh trouble he and Bucky had gotten into one day…he couldn't even remember anymore…Steve had once described it to Mrs Barnes like Bucky's 'itch to help': Bucky had to scratch it or he'd go crazy. Steve had never met a better, more naturally generous guy than Buck. Steve hoped that Thea understood how good a man she'd married. Heck, he hoped at the very least that she let him take care of her and didn't misunderstand Bucky's heavy-handed ways. With a wry expression, Steve replied, "Sure do. My wife is extremely devout, as well."

Surprised, Bucky stated baldly, "You used to be too, Steve. That change?"

Steve sighed. He still believed. He did. He just didn't know what that meant anymore. The theology of his Church didn't explain enough yet. Somehow, he was still sure that there was a god and this god was the G-d of the Bible. Nevertheless, where were frost giants and Chitauri in the holy scriptures? "Maybe. I haven't really figured it out. I don't know how to reconcile ancient Norse myths being based on real beings."

Bucky's look was sympathetic, but his reply was desolate. "That's not the part that bothers me. I got my own issues though."

Hesitating a bit as he wondered what that meant, Steve finally spoke barely louder than a whisper, as he asked, "Was our thing still in there?"

Bucky took a deep breath and then sighed as he closed his eyes as if to ward off the pain. "Yeah. Want it?"

Steve's reply was sharp and insistent. "No."

After a moment, Bucky groaned and leant forward onto his knees. Steve could see that he had made a decision and that Steve was going to be allowed in. "It is at the house on Marsaxlokk."

Steve gasped. Was that old shack actually still standing after all this time? "That's where you sent her, isn't it?"

Bucky shrugged as if unconcerned, but Steve could see that his every nerve was alight with anxiety. Steve was being trusted, but the Winter Soldier was still in there somewhere and clearly didn't agree with Bucky's decision. "You can't go there, Steven, no matter what happens to me. She won't go with you unless you have the password, which I'm not giving to you now. If she knows for sure that I am dead and it is publicly announced, then she will return to her family."

Steve put his hand on Bucky's shoulder and tried to make it clear that he understood what Bucky had left unsaid. "Ok, Bucky. I understand. I don't need it back. We drew it together and it is a part of that time, which is gone now. I don't think that I'd find it funny anymore."

"It wasn't bad, Steve. Your caricatures were better than mine, which won't surprise you."

Typical Buck. He never saw his own talents. Almost the only things he ever admitted to being good at was 'Rogers wrangling' and using his sniper rifle. "Nah, you were good at that sort of thing, Buck."

Bucky smiled affectionately, but his eyes were grim as he replied, "You're a terrible liar, Rogers. Not much longer, you know. Better check the gauges."

He suddenly realised how long it had been since he had checked the controls and took Bucky's advice instantly. As he read the gauges, he stated clearly, "And you're a good one, Bucky. Maybe we better talk about how you expect this to go down once we get inside."

Bucky replied tightly, "Yeah, ok, Steve. This place is a f***ing hellhole and no one's been there in years. It ain't gonna be a cake walk and who knows what this bastard has set up to greet us, right?"

Steve turned back around and asked him, "Just give me the outline of what you remember, ok?"

Bucky shook his head angrily, "These are memories I didn't ever want to revisit, Steve. You don't know what happened there, ok? Trust me. You don't want to know. It was bad."

Steve felt his insides rage with fury as he heard the misery in his friend's voice. HYDRA deserved to go down in painful, drawn-out, horrifying h*llfire. If the universe were kind, Steve would appreciate getting a shot at one or two of the bastards that had tortured his friend. Yet Steve carefully said only, "Ok, Buck. You don't have to tell me about that unless you want to. Just tell me what I need to know for us to be prepared."

Bucky's expression was cold and distant as he snarled, "Be prepared for it to be ugly, Steve. Every memory that I have of Siberia is FUBAR. I was not s****ing you and Bird Boy earlier that the other Winter Soldiers were so bad that even HYDRA was afraid of them."

Steve breathed out shakily and replied faintly, "S***, Buck."

"Yeah, so, you know, saddle up, Cap."

Steve snorted, but didn't laugh. It was about as far from funny as was possible. "Ok, Sarge, yeah."

Bucky looked seriously at Steve and asked with a grimace, "What's gonna happen to your friends?"

Steve had been agonising over that since Berlin. However, there hadn't been any choice. Bucky came first. Honestly, truth came first and Bucky was innocent and they had a legitimate, important mission. However, if challenged, yeah, he'd choose Bucky over truth, too. "Whatever it is... I'll deal with it."

For the first time in their conversation, Bucky's voice was small as he rasped, "I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve."

Although Mary-Claire and the twins had thrown a wrench into his life-long priorities—Bucky was now moved down from first to third place in his life—Steve knew just how far he would go to help Bucky. He had already started a war with his team. He would begin…and finish…a war with HYDRA itself if that was what he needed to do for Bucky. Thankfully, he knew his wife supported his fight for Bucky all the way and she was far cleverer than he was. Steve answered Bucky softly, "What you did all those years... It wasn't you. You didn't have a choice."

Bucky's face spasmed with pain and he murmured dejectedly, "I know. But I did it."

* * *

"So, it all went down last night."

"Yes, just as Sissy predicted. Secretary Ross is nothing if not methodically stupid."

Glenn frowned. "I don't like it, Robert. It is too dangerous for her. I don't just mean Mary-Claire's mental health or that of the unborn babies. I mean _truly_ dangerous."

"You think I am going to accept this and just do nothing? They dragged Sissy out of the bed and left bruises all over her arm. Did you see what the press was saying about her this morning? Who the h*ll does the mayor think he is, trying to pull a stunt like this? D*** it, Glenn."

"They played it wrong though, Robert. They thought the house was empty. They had no clue she even existed. The cameras caught Ross' operative both entering during the chaos and planting the evidence. The security detail that Mary-Claire had watching the house documented everything on video. The only reason you saw those bruises was because Mary-Claire _wanted_ them to be seen. She chose that dress to wear to the press conference, didn't she?"

"Yes. I know all that, you idiot, but my sister is now married to an international fugitive."

Glenn took a long sip of his drink and then responded soothingly, "Robbie, she played the media like a fiddle at that press conference, but, for now, that is all she can do. It isn't time to take things to the next level. Yes, Ross is going to make every effort of getting at Rogers through her. But he has no clue how outgunned he is going to be when he tries to tangle wits with our Mary-Claire."

Robert grunted angrily. "Yes. Ok, ok. But now she has just effectively announced to the world that she is the wife of Captain America, that they are having twins in a few months, and that she is in the midst of a move to Geneva. Every insane bastard, HYDRA goon, henchman for Ross, or terrorist that wants to capture Captain America now knows an easy route to smoking him out."

Glenn laughed. "Do you really think that Mary-Claire hasn't planned this?"

"Of course, she has. I know it. Sometimes Sissy's intelligence is frightening. I don't know how she can be such a terrifying tactical genius, yet she can barely take care of herself. She has seen the writing on the wall for over a year now—even if the actual Sokovia Accords that were approved are worse than she originally expected. There have been rumblings about controlling the Avengers and other Enhanced since the Chitauri invasion, Glenn. The situation in Lagos was just the final piece, but anything similar would have done for the purpose."

"I suppose that's true, but did the jerk have to go racing off after his assassin best friend? He couldn't do it the right way?"

Robert pulled a cigar out of the box and held it out to Glenn. "What is the right way? If they were going to shoot you on sight because they thought you'd committed a terrorist attack but I knew you couldn't have done it, would you want me to just hang back and let them do it?"

Glenn looked oddly at Robert and then said tightly, "No. But you wouldn't break international law in the process."

"Oh yeah?"

Glenn shook his head. "Ok, well I concede the point. I'd probably shoot them all in the head if they'd arrested you similarly. But you'd be innocent."

Robert nodded. "Well, they _were_ wrong, Glenn. They were going to kill the bastard, but then the evidence comes out that he was framed. It took no time at all to send an attack squad, but then an equally short space of time to realise he was innocent. It doesn't bother you that all this is happening without attorneys, the courts, or even a few hours to investigate the truth?"

Glenn lit his cigar and sat back in his chair, as he thoughtfully responded, "Ye-es, I…ok, I suppose it does. However, why did Rogers still run after this Barnes character after he killed the people during that interrogation?"

Robert narrowed his eyes to slits and snarled, "I don't know, Glenn. If you don't know the answer to that, then I can't teach it to you."

"They aren't us, Robbie. F*** you. You can be such a g**d**** a******. Mary-Claire's husband is chasing after a man who became an international assassin."

"Not by choice and that makes the difference. I did some really crazy s*** when I was high, Glenn, but you stuck by me all those years. You've never given away my secret to Sissy either. In a way, this _is_ the same. Even if you don't get why Rogers is doing this, Sissy does. We are going to support her all the way, right?"

"Obviously."

"Frankly, it is just particularly strange what the various governments of the worlds are doing in regards to the Enhanced. If you wanted to make an enemy of the most dangerous people on the planet, and let's be frank that they are, this is exactly how you would go about it, isn't it?" Robert furiously stamped out his cigar in the ashtray next to him and took a dangerously large gulp of scotch. "I wish I could understand half of this, but it seems to me that there is a lot we don't know. It all seems very shady and extralegal. There was no public discussion of the Accords, Glenn. These people were expected to sign, retire, or be put in prison despite not having committed crimes. And then at the signing there is a bombing. This doesn't give you pause?"

Glenn shoved his empty glass away from him and gestured significantly towards the bottle. As Robert poured him more, Glenn replied seriously, "It does, yes. However, I'm much more worried about Mary-Claire. What is she supposed to do now that Rogers has run off and left her here? She's carrying twins for f***'s sake. Now she is going to have her name dragged through the court of public opinion and it won't be pretty. I know that she's planned things and she has plans for all the things that will go wrong and even plans to replace those plans if need be. But she's our Mary-Claire, who gets terrified if she has to use a car service that she doesn't know. I'm worried about how she will handle Geneva alone."

"Actually, that is the part where I disagree, Glenn. We've all planned the move—all three of us. She will be fine in Geneva because you'll be there with her. She is hardly alone. She has been very cautious about planning for all the things she knows she needs. She has a psychiatrist that she's spoken with several times over the phone. You've already found restaurants for her, hired a housekeeper, and set up a former special ops as her driver. A private doctor will be coming to the house. I never asked, but I bet she's already found someone to come in and do her hair. Sissy has set every step up like a chess puzzle. This is a side of my sister that I really hadn't seen. I had no idea she could be this calculated."

"We always knew she was intelligent, Robbie, and exceedingly logical. The drive to put all this into place despite the enormous anxiety it is causing her though…I think it might be this guy."

Robert frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well…Alice…" Glen cleared his throat and tried to control his voice as he continued, "Alice said all along that she thought Mary-Claire would literally do anything for Rogers. Looks like that is true."

"I see. Honestly, I could have told you that, Glenn. I thought it was a lucky thing that Rogers was every bit as crazy about her—and holy s***, Glenn, is that man is on fire for Sissy! I actually think he would nuke the world if something ever happened to her. Captain America is a genuine hero who actually fights freaking aliens, but Steve Rogers, now, he is a man so violently in love that he told me he's prepared to lay down his shield if she needs him to retire."

"You're serious?"

"Deadly. If that is how he is about her, then he isn't going to be too very different for his best friend. Wherever he is, I don't think Steve Rogers is acting as Captain America right now, Glenn. So, you see, now I fear that his wild adoration of her just encourages Sissy to throw herself into the breach. You know she isn't strong enough for this. He's gone after his friend, but he's not going to let her go either. I have no idea what that even means for her and our future, therefore."

Glenn finished his second drink and then replied, "Exactly. That's my concern, Robbie. How is this all going to go down? Is she going to end up in a hospital again? I don't know if I can take that. It nearly killed us last time."

Robert sat back and closed his eyes. It was almost two minutes before he was calm enough to answer, "Well, let us just hope that Sissy has planned this properly and can handle however it shakes out. I am expressly forbidden from doing anything more than attending the press conference she has planned for tomorrow."

"And Sarabeth?"

"She's being a b**** as usual, but she said she's coming up here."

"Ugh. Great."

"It would look strange if she didn't, Glenn."

Glenn shook his head and replied with disgust, "Nah. I don't need her."

"Look, Sarabeth and I don't have any good relationship, but she is my sister, ok?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not simply going to pretend s*** with her, Robert."

Robert stood up and glared down at Glenn. "Even if Sissy asks you to?"

"That's dirty pool, Robbie. Now you're just hitting below the belt. Mary-Claire isn't going to ask me to play happy family with Sarabeth after what she did to me. I will promise to ignore her politely. That's my limit."

"Fine. That's actually all I'm asking. Come on, idiot. You're drunker than I've seen you in a very long time. I'll help you get down the hall."

"Yeah, yeah. OK. Today sucked, Robbie."

"It truly did."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Well, you can't say she didn't plan well, Steve."

Steve flopped back on the bed and looked over at Bucky. "She has burnt all her bridges over this. I did not want her to do that."

Bucky snorted with combined amusement and annoyance. "What do you expect her to do, Steve? Publicly repudiate you? Come on, buddy, I know you have at least half of a brain in there, so use it. They used a secret warrant. They burst into your apartment, dragged her onto the ground despite the fact that she is expecting, handcuffed her and manhandled her enough to leave bruises, and then tried to steal her client's confidential files. If it were Thea, I'd be a raging lunatic. Not sure how you are so sane."

His voice so low that it was essentially a growl, Steve replied, "I'm not, Bucky."

Bucky looked at him and said only, "Yeah."

Steve grunted as he pushed himself back up and then got off the bed. As he returned to pacing the floor, he didn't see Bucky roll his eyes fondly. Shoving his hands in his hair the way that always made him look a little bid mad, Steve finally said, "The thing is, Buck, I know she has a plan here."

Bucky readjusted himself on the huge cushion roll at the top of the bed and then replied, "That's obvious, Steve. You said she is a UN attorney, right?"

"Specifically, human rights. Looks like she just took on a specialty."

Shaking his head slowly, as he thought out his reply, Bucky sighed. "I don't think it just happened. You know your girl, but it looked to me like Mary-Claire just put on a spectacular piece of theatre in that press conference. She looked fragile, very pregnant, and shockingly beautiful as her attorney carefully told her story, which should play very well to the public."

"Buck…"

Bucky ignored Steve's interruption and continued, "Then she said her own piece and, despite probably intentionally sounding as Southern and childlike as possible, she also came across as needle sharp and smarter than either of those dumb s***s that the state of New York sent to their press conference. Lastly, Steve, that list of enhanced mothers and fathers that have been arrested by Ross' orders…incredibly clever move. I had no idea there were that many of us out there, so you can be sure the average American didn't either."

"Yeah, it's nuts how many Enhanced there are now. So many more than you would think, Buck. This century is pretty bizarre."

Bucky's expression was affectionate, but his reply was drily sardonic, as he said, "I have noticed. I'm just saying that Mary-Claire is obviously smarter than you and me combined."

Steve laughed. "Not sure that is hard to do."

Bucky smiled, but looked away for a moment from Steve's intent gaze. "Well, you did once say that I took all the stupid wherever I went."

Steve chuckled shortly as he watched Bucky for a moment before responding, "Yeah, but it was usually me, if we're both being honest, Buck. How did we end up here?"

His eyes suspiciously bright, Bucky responded with a harsh laugh, "Short answer: f***ing Hydra. Almost as short answer: miracles of mad science."

With a surprised look at his best friend, Steve said, "You always did love science."

Still lounging on the long cushion roll, Bucky shook his head. "Nah, that wasn't my s***, Steve. I just liked Science Fiction and futuristic c***. You know I didn't like Ratkill's chem class."

"Come on, Buck, Radkovic wasn't so bad. And you had the highest grade in the class."

"Second highest. Don't forget Dawkins."

Steve groaned. "I actually had. Wish I still could."

"Steve?"

"Yeah, Buck?"

"You won't forget?"

Steve sat up and looked over at his friend and sighed. "No, Buck, I won't forget. I won't forget a thing. Are you truly sure that you don't want me to bring her to Wakanda once you go under? She would be safe there."

"I'm sure." Bucky stared at Steve for a moment to gauge his emotional state. Apparently deciding he was satisfied with what he saw, Bucky nodded and then added, "I don't want Thea or Jamie to have to see me like that. Bella just…she won't deal well with that, Steve. I can't do that to her. If they can't remove the programming from my head, then I will have to stay in cryo, Steve. That is no life for her or the children, understand? And I know Thea. She'd hang on waiting for some miracle and never move on with her life. I cannot allow it."

Steve glanced at Bucky and said seriously, "She might want to make that choice herself, Buck."

His expression hardening instantly, Bucky tersely answered, "And I said no. She is my wife, Steve, so I'm making this call."

Shrugging in a way that made clear to Bucky his opinion, Steve asked, "Want another drink? I'm going to go down and get one."

"Nah, I'm good. What time are we heading back?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Steve cast a grin at Bucky and answered, "Your favourite time."

Sighing exaggeratedly, Bucky asked, "Stupid o'clock?"

Steve laughed genuinely. "You got it, Buck."

"You always have been a jerk, Rogers. Some of us like to sleep until at least stupid thirty."

"Well, you know me. I love to make things hard for you, Bucky."

Bucky snorted with amusement and replied with a rough smile, "That you do, buddy."

* * *

Steve stared down at Bucky, who could no longer look back up at him, as he was now deep in cryosleep. Intellectually, he understood Bucky's decision. It was noble, honourable, and sensible, but it was also a steaming crock of s***. What did he mean by just leaving his wife and son existing in some Maltese safe house? The poor woman probably didn't even know if Bucky was alive. This was no way to treat her, especially since she was expecting another child. If she cared for Bucky at all, then she would be frightened and anxious about his safety, as well as her own. At the very least, her fears could have been assuaged by knowing that Bucky was safe. After T'Challa overcame his surprise that Bucky had a family, he made it clear that the Wakandans were very willing to host Bucky's family indefinitely. Yet, Bucky had very firmly refused. It seemed he felt Thea and the boy were safest in the safe house that he had arranged himself.

Steve knew perfectly well how Bucky had always been about things like that. He trusted his own—always detailed and complicated—arrangements best, although he was always willing to go along with Steve's plans regardless of his opinion of them. However, clearly this time nothing less than Bucky's arrangements would do for his own family, no matter what Steve said. This was a side of Bucky that Steve had never before seen. It was an interesting development, especially because Steve was not blind to the unusual similarities in his and Bucky's choices for wives. Both women were highly educated, deeply religious, very traditional, and from highly privileged backgrounds. Both had lost their brothers in Iraq. And, least surprising of all, both Steve and Bucky had, essentially, fallen in love at first sight.

Nevertheless, despite any superficial similarities, their two relationships were so very different. Steve knew that he was far too selfish and would wreck a small country merely to gain an hour with Mary-Claire regardless of the consequence. Of course, Mary-Claire would have already made a half dozen complicated plans that would be better than anything Steve would have considered. Bucky, who apparently had a more controlling relationship with his wife, was determined to be as unselfish as possible when it came to Thea's safety. Yet, Bucky was so incredibly focussed on safety above happiness that Steve wondered how Bucky's wife, Thea, would feel if asked. Surely, she would choose to remain with Bucky if possible. Steve had to admit; however, that he wasn't as surprised as he probably should be. Bucky was a natural protector and had always been what used to be called a man's man. He would probably assume that his wife would understand. Steve _knew_ that Mary-Claire never would, however.

Steve answered his phone slowly as he walked down the wide, bright hallway of the centre where Bucky was going to be kept. "Yeah, Sam, it's done."

"So, do you want me to come now or do you need more time?"

"Might as well, Sam. Did Natasha have any better intel?"

"I will let her tell you. She says that I won't explain it properly."

Steve sighed. He didn't feel like dealing with that right now. "Yeah, that's fine, Sam. What is your ETA?" He could hear Sam asking Natasha in the background, which made him realise that they were already in route.

"She says forty minutes."

"Okay, I'll be ready."

Sam's voice was apologetic as he added, "Everything went fine on our end. She is fine, Steve."

Steve cleared his throat. "Where?"

"Not supposed to tell you, Cap."

Steve harshly demanded, "Where, Sam? Not going to ask again."

"Fine, Steve, but it's your own security protocol that you're breaking, you know. Her cousin is with her. They are in Florence."

Surprised, as he had thought they would go north, Steve responded, "Oh?"

"Look, I don't have anything to do with it. I just go where I'm told and I was told to fly to Florence, Steve. The cousin is a like a bulldog. I was barely allowed to talk to her."

"You didn't need to have long conversations with Mary-Claire, Sam, just be able to tell me if she was ok. I trusted you to make certain it went smoothly, Sam. So, did it?"

"As much as possible, yes, Steve. I don't know how ok Mary-Claire really is, since she's pretty convinced that you're going to go jump out of 30 story windows and set small countries on fire just to track down HYDRA. And, honestly, I couldn't tell her that we weren't, since I don't actually know what the f*** we're about to go and do."

"Yeah, ok, Sam. I get it."

Sam's voice was very tense as he replied, "That's something, I guess. So, anyway, I have a letter for you."

Steve cursed to himself, not even attempting to hide it, as he began tossing things into his go bag. "We will talk about this more when you arrive, Sam."

"Look, man…"

"Not now. Just, not now, Sam." Steve hung up the phone and looked around the room. Mary-Claire had been supposed to travel to meet him there. He had believed that he was going to get to introduce her to Bucky. Then, everything had changed when someone had Mary-Claire put on the no-fly list. It had taken two days and a lot of Mary-Claire's connexions to get everything cleared up, but the window for her to come to Wakanda had closed. Ross had a h*ll of a lot to answer for. Steve had some hope that they would prevail in time. Mary-Claire had connexions, money, and extraordinary intelligence, so she was cleverly using Ross' stupidity against him. It _could_ work. However, at the moment, Steve didn't really care about the political end games. He didn't give a s*** what Ross or HYDRA or anyone else was doing at the moment. He just wanted his wife there with him. They were supposed to have time together before he had to leave for their new gig as 'undercover avengers' _without_ legal support and _with_ public disavowals. Honestly, Steve had not felt this angry and bitter since he first woke up from the ice. Even if he found a way to get to Florence, she'd be gone by then. He was going to have to wait another few weeks until she was finally in their new house in Geneva.

* * *

The street was too quiet. No city block should be that silent, not even at 4.02 in the morning. Steve's instincts were on ultimate alert as he slipped inside the building and slowly worked his way up the stairs. He could not hear anything other than the quiet prancing of a small dog moving around inside. He hesitated and then slid his key into the lock as he punched the code into the device on the door. As soon as there was a small click, he opened the door just enough to look inside, rapidly slid around it, and then silently shut it behind him.

There should be three people in this house—four if Robert had actually followed through on his promise to get on a plane. So, why could he hear no one at all? Steve slowly, stealthily worked his way through every room of the home and finally came to the terrified conclusion that she wasn't there.

There was no note…nothing that could tell him where she had gone. They had clearly been there only recently, since there were two glasses of partially finished bourbon on the table in the library. Looks like Robert had managed to come after all. One bedroom, which was clearly Mary-Claire's, seemed to be in a state of disarray that was extremely unlike her. The bedcovers were thrown back and…

Steve suddenly turned and raced from the room—darting around the little spaniel that had suddenly begun barking in alarm at his actions. As he reached the front door, however, he stopped. He hastily dropped his duffle, which fell onto the marble floor with dull thud, and picked up his phone. Which hospital? He had only been in Geneva once before and he had hardly been looking for civilian healthcare at the time. He scrolled through his contacts, not many there but enough that he couldn't find…

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"Hospital?"

"S***, really? She's not due for a while, I thought."

Tearing at his hair, Steve demanded desperately, "Which hospital? I don't have a clue and there is no note."

"Ohhh, s***, man. Uh, hold on. Lemme ask Romanov. She'll know."

"Natasha's there? Ok, ask her." Steve waited with his panicked pacing getting progressively faster and more aggressive.

Finally, Natasha's voice came through the phone as she said softly, "Clinique des Grangrettes. That's where she will be, Steve."

"You are sure?"

"Yes, I am. The address is on your phone now. We will be there in 31 hours. Sam will contact you."

"You don't have to…"

"Shut up, Rogers. Go see your wife and your babies."

As soon as he heard Natasha hang up, Steve looked anxiously on his phone to find the map function. He hated these kinds of devices, but still…they were useful at times. Finally, he figured out where he needed to go and then shoved the phone back into his pocket. He hesitated before deciding to leave his bag on the floor, desperately rushing out of the front door of the flat and then running out onto the street below.

When he burst through the doors of the hospital, which didn't look much like a hospital in his opinion, Steve saw a startled woman behind a desk look up. He strode purposefully towards her and asked, "Ma femme est enceinte de jumeaux et on m'a dit qu'elle était en travail prématuré. Où vais-je la trouver, s'il vous plaît? Elle s'appelle Mary-Claire Rogers. Elle est Americaine."

The woman frowned as she looked him up and down, then replied in disinterested, yet excellent English, "Yes, sir. You are the father of these children?"

Steve could not keep himself from angrily growling, "Yes. _She is my wife_."

"Just a moment, sir."

He stared with fury after the woman's disappearing back and then yanked out his phone as he got another message. It was just a contact number, which Steve immediately called.

Steve heard Robert hoarsely reply, "Yeah?"

"Jefferson? This is Rogers."

"S***. Some timing you have. You should be here, Rogers. Sissy is about to go in for a C-section. She was crying for you so much that they had to sedate her."

"I _am_ here, Jefferson, but I don't know where to go."

"F***, you couldn't let us know ahead of time that you were coming to pay her a visit? D*** it, man. The hospital is Clinique des Grangrettes."

Steve made a strangled growling sound and then drawled in the angriest Brooklyn accent he had used in years, "Yeah, but _where_? I'm at the desk and they were lookin' at me like I was somethin' the cat dragged in. Tell me where the h*ll to go and I'll be there."

"I'll tell them. They aren't going to let you up here if I don't."

"Well then come down or send Northridge. I ain't gonna be kept away from my wife when she is gonna have my kids. Fix it, Jefferson."

"F*** you, Rogers."

Steve went back to pacing the floor and straining himself just to keep from losing his control completely when he heard rapid steps hurrying in his direction. Spinning around on his heel, he saw Glenn stalking in his direction.

"Come on."

Steve glared at the receptionist, who was returning just as they hurried towards the lifts.

"Sir, sir, where are you going?"

Glenn stopped and stared at the young woman as he showed his hospital bracelet and said, "He isn't going to miss his babies being born, understand?"

They raced off, hurrying down corridors and running up the stairs, until, finally, Steve saw his brother-in-law standing with his arms crossed at the end of a corridor.

As Steve ran faster towards him, Robert's eyes widened as he stepped back unconsciously and said stiffly, "You will need to get a hospital thing on."

Surprised at Robert's reaction to him, Steve asked tightly, "Where is she? Did you tell her that I am here?"

"Yes, I told them you are here. I think it is better if _she_ doesn't know you are here until you actually walk in. She is not doing well emotionally."

Steve muttered angrily, "S***." He then followed Robert into the room. Nearly 15 minutes later, he was being ushered into the operating theatre where Mary-Claire was supposed to be. The moment that he saw her strapped to a table, he nearly lost every ounce of his control. Unbidden, memories of being restrained as he watched Dr Erskine smile down at him raced into his consciousness. Next, he had a flash of Bucky strapped on a table in Azanno. Then Bucky sliding into the Wakandan cryobed and the single white restraint being clicked over his chest. His mother so delirious with fever that they restrained her in the bed, as she coughed so hard that she broke a bone. Steve growled furiously to himself. Why. Was. His. Girl. Strapped. Down?

"Steve? Steve! Are you really here?"

All thoughts of anything other than comforting his wife pushed aside, Steve stumbled forwards and said huskily, "Hey there, beautiful one. Of course, I am here. I'm here, darling."

"But Robert said they didn't know how to contact you."

"I was already on the way, dearest. I'm here." Steve leant over and kissed her face as he touched her cheek. "Looks like the boys decided to surprise us."

"I'm scared, Steve. It's too early."

"Well, we will take care of them. It will be all right. Ok? It will be all right."

"They said…oh Steve, they said they would need to be in the NICU for a while."

"Well then, it is good we are in an excellent hospital. Don't worry. It is going to be just fine."

Ten hours later, Steve was sitting beside Mary-Claire as she slept fitfully. She had alternated for hours between sobbing about him finally being there, that the twins were still in neonatal beds, and that he and her family had already found a way to fight over her. She had not done much beyond lay miserably or cry for some time. She couldn't be taken over to see the twins yet, so she had also demanded that he go as often as allowed to take pictures and video for her. Each time when he returned to her room—privately wrecked to see his babies so tiny and fragile—she had been bawling in such misery that Steve was afraid.

Nothing that he had said to her could convince her to allow either her brother or her cousin in the room after the fight they'd had. He knew that she was scared more than angry. What hurt him most of all was that he felt her fear stemmed from her belief that Steve might leave if she didn't take his side. Now that she was finally soundly asleep, he pushed himself up from the chair and stalked out of the room and down the corridor.

"Rogers."

Steve sighed. "Steve. I think we are past last names now, don't you?"

Robert grimaced, but nodded agreement.

"Look, I have tried, Robert. Nothing that I am saying is getting through. You and Glenn can go peer in the window now, since she is sleeping. She is physically fine. The babies will be brought down in an hour if all goes well."

"They will be brought down here? They aren't going to stay in incubators?"

Steve scratched his beard uncomfortably as he looked between both Robert and Glenn. "She is not aware of this yet, but the babies needed transfusions. They used mine."

"Oh f*** no. You didn't just make my nephews some kind of…."

"No. No, Robert. It doesn't work like that. However, it did make a pretty remarkable change in their health. So much so that I had to have a conversation with the neonatologist. I am not very confident in her ability to keep to the NDA, to be honest. Not sure what that will mean for the future, but it couldn't be helped."

"Then why did you use your blood? They didn't have a blood bank here?"

Steve stared at Robert and then looked over at Glenn with misery.

Glenn put a hand on Robert's shoulder and said gently, "Obviously, Robbie, because the babies were in serious danger. Do you think Steve would take that risk otherwise?"

Robert's eyes jumped to Steve, as he asked, "Truth?"

Steve couldn't do more than nod.

"But they are ok? They won't…I mean, they will…"

"They are very healthy now. I will tell Mary-Claire after she has had a chance to hold them. She needs to feel them in her arms and know they are healthy _now_ before I let her know about before."

Glenn nodded. "I agree. No, let it go, Robbie."

Robert looked at Steve. "I should apologise. I'm not any good at admitting when I'm wrong, but I think I was. I know that you don't want to be away from her. "

Steve breathed out angrily through his nose, but said nothing.

Nudging his best friend with his elbow, Glenn said, "Robbie."

"Ok, ok. I know you didn't abandon Sissy or the children. I get that, ok? I just don't understand all this s***."

"I couldn't sign those Accords, Robert. Much of what I was afraid of happening occurred almost _immediately_ after they were signed. One of my team members was being held in Ross' prison in a shock collar, Robert. You did not see the prison where they were kept. It was inhuman conditions. Nor should my team members even be considered criminals just for defending their right to have basic autonomy."

"Yes, I agree. The strong majority of America agrees, Steve. But my sister is paying the penalty for you chasing after your childhood playmate."

Steve sighed and affixed furious eyes on his brother-in-law. "I am aware."

Glenn said firmly, "Robert is not trying to be an a******, Steve. He was just born that way, unfortunately. We all want what is best for Mary-Claire and the twins. Just tell us, what does the situation look like right now? Are you going to stay away still?"

"I cannot stay long. Cousin Tatiana wants to come for a week. I believe that Mary-Claire would benefit from it."

Robert rolled his eyes. "We can afford 'help', Steve. What Sissy would benefit from is having her husband here."

Steve ground his teeth together for a moment and answered tersely, "I would if I could, which you know perfectly well." After taking another moment to calm down further, he continued, "This is not hired help, Robert."

"No, not at all. Actually, you are asking me to approve one of the deadliest assassins in the world coming into my home.

Drawing up to his full height and jutting out his chin pugnaciously, Steve drawled thickly, "Not your home, pal. It is mine and I'm not askin', Jefferson, I'm tellin' you that Tatiana is coming to stay in my home here with my wife and my children. She will be welcomed there for as long as Mary-Claire is comfortable. You got nothin' at all to do with it. Accept it or leave. Now, are you gonna go see her or not?"

Glenn put his hand firmly on Robert's shoulder and said clearly, "Of course we are. Get your head out of your a**, Robbie. This is not your fight."


	16. Chapter 16

AN: I want to reiterate that there are certain scenes that are included in both Marsaxlokk (the Bucky Barnes companion piece to this one) and this story. In this chapter, the actual dialogue is the same as parts of chapters 20 and 21 of Marsaxlokk, yet the description and internal monologue is all now from Steve's point of view. As before, this changes things significantly.

* * *

Chapter 16

Steve stared over at Bucky, who was sitting slumped against the back of the chair. Surely, Buck couldn't continue to be this foolish and stubborn. "Well what do you think, Buck?"

As if there might be spies hidden behind the row of odd Wakandan medical devices behind him, Bucky looked around the large white room and said warily, "No. It isn't the right time yet."

Steve controlled his natural inclination to growl as he felt a wave of quite intense frustration wash over him. "Buck, they have run all the tests numerous times. You have had several months to recuperate now. If she keeps to her due date, then your wife will give birth in just a few weeks. What are you waiting for? D'ya wanna see her or not?"

Bucky snapped his head up and glared at Steve with bared teeth. "F*** off, Rogers."

Standing up from the edge of the narrow medical bed where he had been sitting as if he had been launched off it, Steve peered furiously down at Bucky and replied with a sudden burst of rage, "Sure thing, Barnes. I don't got anywhere else I'd rather be, right? I wouldn't enjoy a visit to Geneva right about now to see Mary-Claire, right? So, forgive me if I'm not too sympathetic to your excuses, since you actually _can_ see your wife—unlike me. Frankly, I don't get it. This attitude of yours doesn't match that of the man who was quite prepared to kill one of the Dora Milaje who suggested that Thea might be a security threat to King T'Challa."

There was a moment in which Steve thought Bucky might actually jump up and attack him, but, as he watched, Bucky rapidly composed himself through sheer force of will, then stood up and crossed his arm over his chest protectively. His voice was low and vibrating with deep emotion as he answered, "Exactly. Even the Wakandans could be a possible threat. I'm tryna keep her safe, you idiot. You think I don't wanna see her? F***, I want that more than I can put into words. I burn for her so much that I can't even think about anything else coherently sometimes." Steve could see how deeply embarrassed Bucky was as he looked away towards the long row of windows and then continued in a heavy, miserable voice, "I'm sorry you can't go see Mary-Claire and the twins; I know that's my fault, too. If you hadn't done what you did for me, then you'd be back in New York with her now. But I gotta keep my girl safe, Steve. D*** it, you don't really think that I would choose to be away from her or Jamie longer than I gotta, do you?"

Steve breathed out heavily as he felt a wave of painful realisation wash over him. Apparently, Bucky was deeply anguished about his marriage, but Steve wasn't completely sure of the precise cause. Thea must be a very special woman. For all his charm and easy ways with women when they were young, Bucky had never seriously considered marriage with any of them. Winifred Barnes had continually worried whether her oldest son would settle down, but Steve had always known that it would take nothing less than the proverbial thunderbolt to capture Bucky's heart. Yet, as the only other person other than family to whom Bucky had ever attached himself, Steve knew well how exceedingly, unbendingly loyal he was.

Steve also knew just as well how determined Bucky was to do whatever and _only_ what he determined was necessary to protect his loved ones—a point that had often driven Steve crazy back when he was the frequent recipient of Bucky's sometimes overbearing protection. Steve knew very little about Thea, but he fervently hoped that she was the kind of woman who would understand Bucky. Unlike Steve, Bucky would be capable of subsisting in a state of unrequited love for as long as Thea was willing to stay with him, but he would suffer so intensely yet privately that she might not even know. All Steve wanted for his friend was for Bucky to find peace and happiness. It was clear to him that Bucky did not truly believe that his wife loved him, which hurt Steve beyond words.

He replied slowly and apologetically, "Yeah, well I have to be honest, Buck, but I have wondered a little if you do. You know that I'm a stubborn son-of-a-b****, so you haven't tried to keep me from visiting. Also, I got my own way in and out that you don't have any say in. However, she doesn't even know where you are and won't be granted clearance to enter Wakanda without an escort. She doesn't even know for sure you are alive, Bucky."

Steve peered sadly and uneasily at Bucky as he tried to ascertain whether he was pushing his friend too far and, just as importantly, whether his message was getting through. "You got total control here with her—and from how you talk that's the way your relationship with Thea works, Buck. Yet, although she's about to have your second kid and has obediently followed you all over the absolute armpit of Eastern Europe, you somehow think she doesn't truly want to be with you. I've wondered if that is part of your hesitation in sending for her."

Steve reared back as Bucky surged forwards with his teeth bared and eyes blazing with fury and, surprisingly, fear. "F*** you, Steven. Who the h*** are you to even suggest that? I ain't a controlling f*** like my father was with Ma. I'm not ever gonna be like that with my wife. She trusts me, even when I'm being ridiculously overprotective about something stupid or shivering from some nightmare and muttering crazy s*** in Russian. I won't break her trust and I'm not lettin' you say otherwise."

Holy. F***ing. S***. How could Bucky ever think that Steve would accuse him of being _anything_ like Mr Barnes? Bucky's father had been a violent, chronic drunk who had done his best work for the family the day that he'd fallen into the East River and drowned after a particularly severe bout of carousing. Steve had hated him and Bucky had been terrified of him. Desperate that Bucky would not misunderstand him, Steve replied gravely, "I did not say you were like your dad. You would _never_ do that. I don't care what fresh h*ll HYDRA dragged you through, Bucky, but that could never be you."

Bucky dropped back onto the chair so hard that it skidded backwards and creaked as if it might break. Steve watched carefully as Bucky sat with his eyes closed, taking deep controlled breaths, as he attempted to stop shaking and calm himself before speaking. It was at least five minutes before Bucky opened his eyes, wiped his face with his hand, and hitched his left shoulder in the way that told Steve that it still hurt him despite everything that Wakandan medicine had done to treat the severed nerves. His voice was raw and rough, as if he had been screaming, as he explained, "Look, Steve, it's my job to take care of her and my son, ain't it? My safety and contentment are completely secondary to theirs. I want Thea to be happy, but I need her and Jamie to be safe much more, Steve. Yeah, you're right that I'm the one as makes most of the decisions, but that's the way it needed to be for now. I know that she's smarter than me about most things, but she doesn't understand the world you and me live in at all. She trusts me to take care of that s*** because I promised that I would. Therefore, I'm not going to send for her until I _know_ that she'll be ok here."

And how was some old shack in Marsaxlokk safer than an apartment in Birnin Zana, the capital city of Wakanda, that would be provided by King T'Challa himself? Bucky had trusted himself sufficiently to be around his wife for nearly two years (and have a child with her), despite being fully aware that he could be triggered at any time. Now that the triggers were supposed to be removed, then Steve honestly couldn't even comprehend what about Bucky was such a risk to Thea or Bucky's son. He clenched his fists and replied gruffly, "I get that, Buck, but I still think you're making a mistake. Listen, Mary-Claire has more brains in her little finger I got sum total. Honestly, she matches me for strategic planning, but she doesn't get security concerns like I wish she did. A lot of what I've tried to put in place to keep her safe has…not been very well received."

Steve could see that Bucky was grateful for the slight change of direction in conversation, since he allowed an expression of amusement to spread across his face and then snorted with laughter as he said, "Oh yeah? Got yourself a spitfire there?"

Usually, his Mary-Claire was the gentlest girl alive, but holy saints and martyrs was she a force to be reckoned with when she felt a line had been crossed. It hadn't been but a few weeks into their marriage, however, when she had realised that although he wore the proverbial pants in the family, it was only because she had let him. Steve was absolutely aware of how much power she had over him and, oddly, it didn't bother him a bit. "Ya know, not usually, but she's sure got my number, Buck. H*ll, Sam thinks it is absolutely hilarious that a girl barely reaching 5 feet can shut me down with a look. Even you couldn't do that, Buck. Seriously, you and Sam should get along much better than you do for all you both love to give me s*** about everything. Frankly, Mary-Claire knows I really can't tell her no with just the one exception: her security. We'd honestly never fought until I explained that she was going to need to have the babies in Switzerland. That was not a great conversation, Buck."

Bucky shook his head with sympathy. "Huh, bet not. I think it's more like Wilson and I both see _through_ your s***, Steve. But your girl is safer in Switzerland. They got good healthcare there, right? You said the twins are out of the incubators now and meeting the doctor's goals. They're good, right?"

Why had Bucky needed to mention the boys? It still haunted him that his babies had been so ill and that he had taken such a risk with the transfusion. But to have left them behind there…there was hardly an hour when he did not feel a sharp pang of regret and misery as he rethought whether there was any other solution than the one he had accepted. However, it was Mary-Claire who had insisted that there was no other way. So, he had acquiesced, albeit under protest. "Yeah, even better than meeting the benchmarks. It makes me itchy having so many people there know why, too. However, there wasn't a choice, since we would have lost both of them otherwise. NDAs were signed, but that doesn't mean anything if the money or incentive is high enough. The effects of the transfusion are lessening now, but both of them are now in the 95th percentile for growth. That's apparently unheard of for babies born at 34 weeks."

Bucky shrugged. "Might not just be the transfusion, pal. We didn't have much access to doctors, but Jamie has busted through every growth chart and met every benchmark very early. If the counterfeit HYDRA version of the serum did something crazy to my genetics, then what would the good stuff that you got do?"

He didn't want that. He did not want his life for his children. He had chosen it, but his boys didn't deserve to have their future decided for them in that way. Anyway, he was going to cling to Banner's suppositions until Enhanced heritability was proven possible. "I don't think so. Well, Bruce didn't think so, I should say. He said if I had children that they shouldn't be Enhanced like me."

Bucky, on the other hand, clearly had other ideas. "Yeah, well sometimes scientists don't know s***, Steve, and you know it. Jamie heals twice as fast as other boys his age apparently. I know he isn't Enhanced to the degree you and I are, but he's got something. He's only been sick once and it was bad: encephalitis caused by a f***ing amoeba in the water we used for his formula, Steve. The doctor said no one survives acanthamoeba, especially not an infant. At least that bogus s*** that HYDRA injected into me was good for something if it can protect my kid."

Steve gasped in horror. He'd had no idea. "D*** it, Bucky, seriously? But Jamie doesn't have any complications, right?"

Wincing in pain as he remembered, Bucky replied roughly, "Nah, nothing. That's what firmed up my theory that Jamie got some of my abilities."

"Did you talk to Shuri about that?"

Clearly incredulous at Steve's naiveté, Bucky laughed with disdain. "Are you actually asking, Steve? I am not volunteering information like that to anyone. My son will NOT be someone's lab monkey. If it gets out that my abilities can be passed to my kids, then what would that mean? Have you thought about that, Steve?"

Annoyed, as Bucky should not have needed to even ask, Steve narrowed his eyes and replied, "Of course, I have, Bucky. I'm very worried about the twins getting on someone's radar. If they are deemed truly Enhanced then they would be subject to the Accords, too. Obviously, I don't want any of that."

Bucky stood up from his chair and stepped directly in front of Steve as he demanded, "And you want me to bring my child here where they will not fail to notice he is not an average toddler? You want Thea here as a refugee? Well I don't."

Kicking the leg of the medical bed, Steve thrust out his hand towards Bucky and made a rude gesture before he leant forwards far into Bucky's space and he aggressively replied, "Sure, ok, Bucky. I'm the bad guy here, am I? So whatcha gonna do then, huh? Basically, there isn't any other option, Buck, unless a lot of things change. You ain't plannin' on leavin' her in Malta forever."

Cocking his head to one side, Bucky watched Steve for a moment and then replied with equal fierceness, "No, dumba**, I'm not. I just gotta be sure I can trust the Wakandan princess. She is very young and too enthusiastic. She makes protocol mistakes far too often. I'm not sure my family will be safe here, Steve. I don't need you tryna make my decisions for me."

Steve sucked his teeth and waved dismissively at Bucky. "Aww, says you, Buck. What do you actually think can possibly happen to them here in Wakanda that won't happen in Malta, huh? Things can happen no matter where you are and here they will actually be trying to do right by us. Bad things can happen to anyone, anywhere, Buck. D*** it, do you remember what that old farmer did to DiAgostino in the old church in Agatapara? The Army dragged the guy all the way from Trenton to Greece to save that old man's hide from Fascist bastards, but the old fool went and shot him just because DiAgostino talked to his granddaughter in town. You can't control everything."

Bucky's shoulders dropped and he placed his right hand on Steve's shoulder. "Of course, I remember Aggie, pal. Frenchy and me are the ones as buried him."

"Yeah, I know you did, while I clocked the old murdering bastard in the jaw and then dragged him in to the mayor."

Bucky watched Steve for a moment, then he slowly responded, "I didn't remember that part. Did you know what they would do to him?"

Steve heatedly answered, "D***, Bucky, of course not. However, it was war. I wasn't shocked that they did it either."

"Yeah, I know, Steve."

Steve sighed. Those years were starting to feel further away than they had only a few months ago. "Looked that bastard mayor up last year. He died in prison, you know."

Bucky smirked as he replied, "Oh yeah? Ain't that a surprise?"

"Not at all." Steve leant back against the wall and sighed as he purposefully dropped his shoulders and looked at his friend. "So, Bucky, you can be a brawler from Trenton sleeping in a church and still get your ticket punched because of an innocent remark to a pretty girl. Wakanda is the safest you can hope for Thea and Jamie. Malta is not, since it signed the Accords."

Bucky dropped his eyes and stared at the ground. He took several breaths to ground himself and then said miserably, "Aww, s***, Steve. I haven't thought of Aggie in so long. Why'd ya have to talk about him? F***. That was a long time ago."

Maybe it didn't feel like it just happened, but it was still far too raw in his memory to speak of any of that time like it happened a 'long time' ago. "Believe it or not, it isn't to me. Anyway, that doesn't change reality either way, Buck."

Bucky nodded and took a deep breath as he perched on the edge of the medical table. "Yeah. Yeah, ok, maybe. What are you doing about Mary-Claire?"

"She has a detailed plan of what she intends to do about our situation, in fact, she has set things into play that she won't even tell me about. For now, she and the twins will stay in the house in Geneva where her brother, Robert, has installed a housekeeper and a nanny to help her. Her cousin, Glenn, is with her right now, too. There aren't many other countries where I could safely visit, but she could also live in comfort. Unlike you, I wasn't offered refugee status here."

"Why not just stay there with her, ya dumba**? I can tell you're crazy about her."

Steve leant his head back against the wall and moaned. It was like Bucky had placed his thumb right on the wound that was bleeding the most. He didn't want to talk about it. It was too much. "I want to. I want to so d*** much, Buck, but I gotta do my job even if most of the world governments are trying to stop me. It is still the right thing to do. I just can't abandon one responsibility for the other. I gave my word to Dr Erskine, Buck. Somehow, I gotta do both even though I'm not sure how. Right now, Mary-Claire refuses to consider me quitting anyway. I asked her, ya know? But she looked at me like I'd suggested knocking over a bank or somethin'. So, Sam, Natasha, and I will just keep on."

Bucky put his hand on Steve's forearm, shook his head fondly, and then asked with a surprisingly gentle tone, "Did you actually ask T'Challa if your family could settle here, too? He would probably let your wife come. He likes you, Steve."

Steve shrugged and replied tightly, "We get along well, sure. However, T'Challa can't let me or Mary-Claire stay here, not unless he wants to broadcast that you are here, too. Mary-Claire is a UN attorney, who specialises in international human rights. She recently took on a particular specialty."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Let me guess: Enhanced like us?"

"Yep. Wakanda signed the Accords. She cannot work here without drawing attention. Switzerland is the only choice, unfortunately."

"You're an idiot, Steve. You can take a break for a few months. You should go stay with your wife and babies. You don't get this time with your kids again. I've missed out on months with Jamie that I won't get back. You don't gotta be out there risking your life and freedom right now when you got a family as needs ya, understand?"

Steve lightly shoved Bucky's good shoulder and insisted, "You are somethin' else, Buck. You seriously are gonna lecture me on that but leave Thea in Malta?"

"Nah, you were right. At least if she is here and s*** goes to h*ll, then I could go down protectin' them. I wouldn't even know if something happened to her or Jamie there, which has been the subject of half my nightmares lately. I tried to teach her how to fire a gun and use a knife, but there's 12-year olds as would do better than Thea. You really gonna go?"

Finally, Bucky was making some sense. "Of course, Buck. Give me the password and I'll do it as soon as I can get Sam back here. She's in that old house they lodged us in, right?"

Bucky shook his head and said wearily, "Not the one all the men were in, but where you, Lieutenant Smythson, and that f***er stayed. Was it…Captain White? Watson? You know, that dirtbag—he made his sergeant carry coffee and shaving water up to him every morning. That little house."

"Oh. That place was barely a shed, Buck."

"Well they added on a kitchen and a tiny bathroom. It was where we stayed for our honeymoon. That house where all the guys stayed is gone, Steve."

Steve groaned. "Like everything else, yeah. Okay, so what's the password?"

* * *

"This is where Barnes actually chose to hide his family? Holy s***, Steve."

Steve stared at the old building, which looked very little like he remembered, and replied slowly, "I stayed here in '44, Sam. Me and two other officers. Bucky and the soldiers were in a slightly larger building that was over there, but it's been torn down. Honestly, it makes complete sense to me. This was a safe place for us both. That's why, although I never told you, I actually came to Malta looking at one point. Anyway, this town is where he married her, too, in the old church that's been rebuilt."

"How the f*** did he manage to get legally married in his actual name? The priest had to know his name if it was legal, Steve, and therefore his age and who he really is, right? Yet, somehow, the priest agreed to it? And how did he prove who he was anyway?"

"I cannot explain it to you, but there is a good reason. This is the only place he could have done it though. Please, just leave it, Sam. I'm not talking about that time any day soon, ok? I'm not ready. Not sure I'll ever be ready."

Sam nodded with understanding. "Yeah, ok. I can accept that, Steve. So, you ready to meet her?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to think. I always had an idea of the type of girl that would eventually catch Buck's eye. But he isn't the same person that he was then, so I am not sure what to expect."

"He was more Winter Soldier than Barnes then, Steve, so she could be something very different from what you expect."

"Maybe. But I think perhaps not. Buck told me that Thea is the reason he started to find himself again. Ok. I guess we better go in. We might have been seen, so we need to hurry."

Sam looked around them and said cautiously, "Not sure there is anyone around to see us, but you are right. A quinjet is notable enough that we cannot afford anyone seeing it. You first, Cap."

Steve walked up to the door and knocked lightly. After waiting a few moments, he tried the door knob and, as it opened easily, both he and Sam walked inside. As soon as Steve stepped in the room, however, he stopped in shock, causing Sam to step around him to the side. The petite woman who was bent over the baby's cot in the corner of the tiny room had the exact shade of auburn hair that had always got Bucky's attention. Yet, it was the almost unbelievably slight, curvy figure that Thea Barnes had despite being 37 weeks pregnant (which he could not help but notice even from behind) that had caught his attention. Then, probably having heard Steve's gasp of surprise, she whipped around and waved her crutch in the air—for all the world as if she were going to attack him and Sam with a slender carbon fibre rod and win. Holy Joseph, Mary, and all the saints! This was _exactly_ the type of beauty that he had imagined Bucky would fall for one day.

Embarrassed, Steve stammered, "Uh, hello, Mrs Barnes. Um, I'm so very sorry that we scared you. However, it was not safe for us to wait outside. The password is Teva."

Thea dropped her crutch and stared back and forth between Steve and Sam. Finally, she said, "Кто любил Василису Прекрасную?"

Oh. That's right, the Russian password was next. He tried to smile in a friendly way as he replied, "The tsar, Mrs. Barnes." Yet, Thea immediately stepped closer with her crutch lifted threateningly again and her brilliant blue eyes blazing with firm intent. Well, okay then. Apparently, she was going to insist on the Russian words. Steve focussed as hard as he could on the pronunciation of the words Bucky had given him. "Царь женился на Василисе Прекрасной."

Seemingly, he had said everything sufficiently well, since she lowered her crutch and replied nervously, "Ok." Then she stared at Sam, who had been trying very hard to blend into the background with a neutral expression on his face and demanded, "Who are you both and why are you here?"

Steve replied softly, "My name is Steve Rogers, ma'am, and this is my colleague, Sam Wilson. Your husband, Bucky, sent us to bring you to him."

Thea immediately leant heavily into her crutches and closed her eyes with an expression of such strong misery on her face that both Steve and Sam moved towards her. She whispered, "I think…I need to sit down."

Sam jumped forwards and caught her just as her knees started to buckle and helped her to her chair, as he said very gently, "I'm sorry that we frightened you, Mrs Barnes. You and your child are safe, I promise. I assure you that Steve and I would never have entered the house without your invitation if we had not been concerned about being seen. Can I get you a glass of water or something?"

Thea shook her head and stared up at him as she said faintly, "No, it is quite all right. I will be ok. I…I did not think that I would ever hear that password. It has just been 14 weeks since Budapest and there hasn't been _any_ news in the papers for almost that entire time. I wasn't certain that Yasha was even alive."

Steve knelt down beside her and said softly, "Buck is fine. He is safe and we all feel that it should be safe for you and your son to go to him now. Are you going to be ok to travel, ma'am? We will have to fly to get where Bucky is staying."

A fire kindled in her eye and Thea answered tartly, "Try to keep me away, Captain Rogers. I'll walk if I have to."

Oh yes. This was Bucky Barnes' girl. Steve felt such a sense of relief that he had to keep himself from laughing aloud. He shoved his emotions back under control and said politely, "I was referring to your advanced pregnancy, ma'am."

Yet, this was not enough to appease her, as Thea insisted, "This baby is not being born away from my husband if there is any option otherwise. I'll be on that plane, Captain. When do we leave?"

Obviously highly amused, Sam replied kindly, "Actually, Mrs Barnes, we need to go as quickly as possible. We probably attracted attention when we landed."

Thea replied determinedly, "Good. Would you mind helping me get ready? I don't have much here, but I don't want to leave anything behind, since I _never_ want to return."

Before Steve could reply, Sam responded, "Of course. Do you have a suitcase, ma'am?"

Thea shook her head as she absently rubbed her hand long her very pregnant belly and sighed. "Just a bag, not a suitcase. There is another bag on the table in the kitchen, too. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to put all of Jamie's snacks and things in that bag? He will want something to eat whilst we travel, I'm sure. I can pack my clothing, since there isn't much at all."

Sam hurried off to the kitchen, quite purposefully leaving Steve with Thea. Steve crossed to the cot and looked down with curiosity. He would have known the baby as Bucky's anywhere. "He is a very handsome boy. He reminds me of Bucky's youngest brother, Joe, in a way."

Thea smiled brightly. "Yasha said Jamie looks like his grandfather."

Steve laughed. Bucky had strongly taken after Mrs Barnes' father, so he could see why Bucky would think that. "Yeah, he does a bit. His hair has a wave like Mrs Barnes' hair did, too."

Thea tilted her head, as she replied sadly, "Really? Yasha never described her appearance to me and he doesn't have any pictures."

No…no he wouldn't, would he? At least it sounded as if Buck remembered Mrs Barnes. "Mrs Barnes was very petite and had wavy hair that she used to wear up in a large, poufy old-fashioned bun. She cooked wonderful dinners, but her baking was even better. Everyone that knew her liked her and Bucky worshipped her."

Tucking some of her son's clothing into the bag, Thea replied with a small smile, "It was clear from how he spoke of her that she was an enormous influence of good in his life. Do you mind getting Jamie's little bin of toys? We can leave the bin and just chuck the contents into the bag. Where are we going?"

Steve smiled regretfully, as he dumped the toys into the bag unceremoniously. "I'm afraid that I cannot tell you that yet. It will be a long flight, however."

Thea frowned with annoyance. "All right. I suppose that it doesn't really matter, does it? Yasha never told me where we were going until we got there most of the time. Security always came first. Do you mind collecting the shoes and handbag over there?"

His smile faltering slightly, Steve sighed. It was just as he had thought: Bucky was very controlling with his wife and extraordinarily overprotective. And she was unhappy. Steve moved over to the basket to which she had pointed and said, "Certainly, ma'am."

At that moment, Sam re-entered the room and, after a concerned glance over at Steve, said, "All packed up, Mrs Barnes. Is there anything else that I should get together for you?"

Thea looked around the room absently as she replied, "Erm, no, I don't think so. I suppose we shall have to leave Jamie's wooden rocking horse. I can't take that on a plane and it is so ancient that it would fall apart anyway. I'm almost done."

Steve shrugged. There was no reason that they couldn't bring whatever it was she wanted. "If you want the rocking horse, we can bring it. It is a private plane."

"No, it is silly to pack it. I only got it because Yasha used to let Jamie ride him about the flat in Bucharest whilst he pretended to be a horse. It was Jamie's favourite thing, so I hoped the rocking horse might be as close a replacement as I could find. Thank you, though, Captain." Thea leant over to pick up Jamie, who started fussing immediately at being awakened too early.

Steve motioned to Sam, who was smirking and made a very rude gesture as he mouthed with a smirk, "What?" Finally taking pity on Steve, Sam decided to slide the smaller bag under the pram and started pushing it towards the door. Steve snatched up the larger bag and waited to see if there was something else that Thea would need.

She, however, was not looking at either of them, since all of her attention was focussed on her unhappy son. She kissed his forehead and soothingly crooned, "It's ok, my darling. We are going to see Papa. Do you want to see Papa?"

Steve could clearly see that the little boy didn't look impressed as he kept fussing and wiggling. Not looking away from her child, Thea asked tiredly, "Would you get the picture please, Captain? That might help. Sometimes he will settle if I show him the picture and tell him stories about Yasha playing with him."

"Certainly ma'am." Steve looked inside the cot and felt a horrible surge of pain when he saw what picture she had meant. There was a newspaper photograph of Bucky from the time of the incident in Berlin. Had she no other pictures of him? He was not going to be the one to tell Bucky that his wife had soothed their son to sleep with a picture of the Winter Soldier. It would destroy him. He handed the picture to her silently as he tried to gather his emotions sufficiently to speak.

Thea, however, seemed completely unaware of Steve's reaction, as she spoke sweetly to her child. "Here we are Jamie, darling. See Papa? We are going to Papa now."

The young boy declared determinedly, "Papa."

Thea said encouragingly, "Yes, darling, Papa. Won't that be lovely? We are going in a plane with Papa's friends. Then you'll get to see Papa."

The child wailed, "Papa go."

Thea's voice broke slightly as she replied, "Yes, he did go, darling. Now he will be back."

The boy pointed excitedly at the picture and commanded, "Papa go, go, go, go!"

Thea stroked the child's face and said, "Yes, Jamie. Let's go see him. Ok?"

The child seemed quite pleased to hold the little picture and began repeating off and on, "Go."

Thea placed him carefully in the pram, letting him have a small faded grey bunny that was probably once white and then looked at the Steve and Sam. "I'm afraid that I need my crutches today, so I can't push the pram through the grass. It is too uneven for me, otherwise I could just use the pram to stabilise me."

Immediately, Sam stepped forwards and, with a meaningful look at Steve, said, "I don't mind, ma'am. I can carry the other bag, Steve."

Uncertain what Sam was trying to tell him, but too emotionally wrecked to be able to handle anything other than what he was barely keeping in check, Steve shrugged. He snatched up both the remaining bag and the rocking horse, then marched towards the door.

Nearly two hours later, with Thea and the child still safely asleep in the back of the jet, Steve leant toggled the controls slightly and said quietly, "Thanks for listening."

"Steve, thank you for sharing all that. I can understand why you wanted to keep it private. That never made it into any history books."

"None of us were ever going to share that story, Sam. If we told the beginning and the end, then we would have been forced to tell the middle. And we all took a pact never to share it."

"Yeah. Yeah, I get it, Steve. That was some…yeah."

Steve sighed. "I guess I will have to tell Buck that you know. He probably won't take it well, but he won't blame you."

"Aw, s***, Steve. You didn't break your pact by telling me, did you?"

"No. Comrades-in-arms are the only exceptions. I'm not even allowed to tell Mary-Claire."

"I'm honoured. Truly, man."

Steve looked over at Sam and smiled slightly. "I haven't even told Nat."

"Ha. Romanov thinks she knows _everything._ "

"Well, she usually does."

They sat in silence for nearly ten minutes before, Sam suddenly stated, "So I was right, you know."

Steve seemed perplexed. "About what?"

"That she was going to be just like Mary-Claire is with you. Bozo crazy about your boy and ready to fight."

"Yeah, you were a little bit right. He doesn't seem her type, but holy s*** is she his. Almost like she was made to order for Bucky Barnes."

"Yeah? Well, I would like to know how the f*** the d***ed Winter Soldier can get a girl when on the run from HYDRA. Before we raced off to Romania I was all righteous and an American hero and could I get a date? No. All he had to do is stalk around waving his f***ing metal arm of death and he gets a girl that looks like _that_. Between him and you, it is enough to make a guy feel very inferior."

Steve laughed with surprise. "I wasn't expecting her to be quite that beautiful, no. And he used to make fun of the fellows who dated English girls during the war, I remember. However, Bucky has always had a thing for redheads."

Sam snorted and gestured widely with one hand. "Yeah? I like redheads just as much as I like blonds or brunettes. I'm not picky."

"Somehow, I'm not too worried, Sam. I seem to remember you and a very beautiful, very lethal Wakandan woman getting to know each other much better recently."

"Yeah, don't I wish?"

Steve looked knowingly at his friend, but didn't say more.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Steve reached out and stroked the side of Mary-Claire's face as he watched her read the last section of the document. "What do you think?"

She sighed. "I think that I hate it, Steve."

"That bad?"

"Yes. Where did you find it? Our consortium didn't have any news about this."

"Addis Ababa. Natasha found a real treasure trove of information when we were doing the job there. T'Challa is going to send a few pieces to Stark for us, as well as analyse it with his people. But I really wanted to get your view of it most of all, Mary-Claire."

She sat up in the bed and pulled the covers up to her chest with a shiver, as she watched Steve for a moment. Then she said, "I'm worried, Steve. We have some very high-level, well-informed members in the consortium, but we clearly aren't hearing everything. Perhaps we will be able to analyse the trail back to the original producer of this thing and find a weak link somewhere to use as our own source."

"We both know who came up with this, beautiful."

Mary-Claire responded enthusiastically to Steve's kiss and then replied, "Maybe. Ross isn't the only villain in this tragic opera, you know. If I had to guess, this is actually General Grushnikov, Steve. It has his particular style, I think."

Steve stopped in the middle of kicking off his boots and responded with surprise, "Grushnikov? I thought he was removed from power."

"No, he was moved to a different position. A secret position, which has much more power. I wish I could talk to Natasha about it."

"You know that they couldn't come, too. It is risky enough to have me here, but, if we were all together, then there is no possible way that it would not gain someone's attention."

"I know. I also know that you aren't staying long, are you?"

"I'm due to leave in two hours. Natasha and I thought that was all I could risk this trip."

Mary-Claire twitched her shoulder away from Steve's hand and said, "So, you just woke me up at 1.30 am and you'll leave before 4."

"Beautiful, that is what we both agreed upon—even Glenn isn't to know that I've come. Remember? I have to be gone before anyone else is awake. It is the safest way."

"I am not disagreeing with the plan. We made it logically and it is still the most sensible choice. I just hate it with every fibre in my being. Two hours is not enough to talk through all the information that I have for you or for you to do the same. You won't even be able to see the boys but for a moment if you don't want to wake the nanny up."

"I am _not_ leaving without kissing my sons goodbye, Mary-Claire. Anyway, I brought all my information on a thumb drive, so you can just look at it later."

"Yeah, well, I have a whole external hard drive full of things for you, too. However, we have some really important topics that need to be discussed and I can't just call you up later to talk, can I? We made a very important change to the plan after the last round of hearings, too. I want to talk to you about it, Steve."

Steve raised her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, then he lifted it to her cheek as he begged, "Mary-Claire, dearest, please. I didn't come all this way just to talk about the plan or the Accords or Ross or HYDRA or anything else. I came here to see my girl. I came for you."

"I…Steve, I miss you, too. So much. But, if we want any chance of living together like a normal married couple at some time in the future, then we have to get all this stuff right. We have to play this the correct way or else…or else they'll win. Then I won't get to be with you at all, since they'll shove you in some secret, horrible prison and never let you out. Or even worse."

He pulled away, then laid her hand back down on the coverlet and sat back up so he could look down carefully at his wife. It took almost a full minute before he found sufficient control to whisper, "I'm drowning, Mary-Claire."

She gasped and asked fearfully, "What do you mean, Steve?"

He gazed down at her with anguished eyes and shoved his hands into his unkempt blond hair. Finally, he pushed himself to explain. "I mean that I am losing the battle. When I found you, then I decided to give hope a try for a while. Then you even agreed to marry me and I actually thought maybe. Maybe it would be ok. And then we found out we were going to have the boys and, jeez baby, everything actually felt warm inside for the first time in so long. And then the sky fell."

"But you haven't lost us. I still love you. Steve, I love you so much! And the boys are safe here. We are going to be ok, Steve, I know it."

Steve shook his head miserably and choked back a sob as he tried to find the words to speak. "You don't understand, Mary-Claire. Yes, you and the boys are safe here—and if you weren't, then I wouldn't even try to care anymore—but I'm still out there. Bucky and his children are safely together, but I can only get two hours here today with you. Instead, I'm out there wearing the threadbare, dyed remnants of my old Cap uniform and fightin' without my shield for people who don't even seem to want my help. We keep savin' people who practically kick us in the teeth as soon as we're done. So, dearest, I just can't see any light at the end of the tunnel right now. I am glad that you're workin' on fixing this Accords disaster and I trust you that we have a good chance. It is just too far away for me to see it. I gotta keep it together for Nat and Sam. They're relyin' on me to be 'Cap', so I am. But right now, baby, I just need to be Steve. I just need two hours with my girl in my arms, ok? Help me."

Mary-Claire slipped her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead. Then Steve rapidly pulled her into his arms and laid his head on top of hers. He laid there holding her so tightly that the warmth of her body nearly reassured him that he wasn't alone. However, some time later it was her words that finally chipped away at the ice and darkness that was swirling around him.

As she looked up at him from inside the cocoon of his tightly wrapped arms, Mary-Claire whispered into his ear. "Oh Steve, I adore you beyond words. I meant it when I told you that I would do anything, you know. I hate this plan so much, but I will work at it day and night for you. Only for you."

* * *

"Hello, Steve."

Steve looked up from blindly gazing out into the velt. Thea really had healed well. She didn't even need her cane most days. "How's Winnie doing?"

"Sleeping on Yasha's chest at the moment. She's just like Jamie was at that age. Whenever I couldn't get him to sleep, Yasha would strap on the carrier and Jamie would be asleep in minutes."

An intense, desperate longing for his own children surged over Steve and he had to grip his knees tightly with his hands to keep from punching something. "I'm not surprised. Buck is a natural protector, Thea. Always was."

"I know. That is how our relationship started, Steve. He had to protect me from HYDRA."

Steve grunted with annoyance as he turned back to look out at the shadows beginning to fall over the landscape. "Yes. He kidnapped you to protect you. Even for Bucky, that is extreme. Although, he was right. They would have done everything he was afraid they would, since they were determined to recapture or kill the Winter Soldier."

"I know it is extreme, but he loved me."

His tone completely disbelieving, Steve questioned, "You believed he was in love with you even then, Thea?"

Thea tossed back several errand strands of her long, copper hair and said with transparent honestly, "Yes. I cannot explain it. He was all instinct and primitive emotion then, which was terrifying in many ways but also a relief. I absolutely knew how he felt, since he was incapable of hiding it."

Steve looked away and stated in a dead, flat tone, "And that was appealing."

Shrugging her slender shoulders, Thea then fluttered her petite hands expressively as she explained, "It was just suddenly my life. There was nothing that I could do to change it, Steve. Initially, I trusted him because he wasn't lying. Next, I followed him because it was the only chance that I had to be safe. Then, I married him because his love for me is the kind that I thought was only found in epics and poems and great works of art. Finally, I loved him because he is Yasha. He is the only one and I would do anything that I must to be with him."

Steve stood up and looked down at Thea for several moments. Then he replied in a constricted voice, "You saved him, Thea. I would not have got him back if it were not for you."

Thea shook her head and insisted forcefully, "He would never have come back if it were not for you. At the base of who Yasha—Bucky—is, there is your brotherhood, Steve. Tell me why you asked for me?"

He let out a long, deep breath and then asked wearily, "Did you want to sit down, Thea?"

"Ok, but please, tell me what you wanted to talk about. Is it Yasha?"

"No, not really. I want to offer you the opportunity to meet with your family."

Thea made a little yelp of surprise that reminded Steve of a surprised kitten. Her eyes danced with excitement and hope as she asked, "My family? You mean my brothers?"

"Yes. I have spoken with both Natasha and T'Challa about it. You can come to my home in Geneva where my wife and children are currently living. As neutral ground, you can invite your brothers there. I think that we have a fairly solid plan that should be quite safe. However, Bucky cannot go. It would have to be only you and, if you want, the children."

Thea's face dropped. "Oh. Oh, dear. He will never let me do it."

Steve slowly nodded and replied in a severe tone, "Yes, I know. Buck is even more fanatical about your protection than I am about Mary-Claire's. And I have to tell you, Thea, that I'm quite intense about my family's safety. Bucky will probably punch my face in just for offering this to you without going through him first, too. However, my wife has reminded me that you ought to have the right to rebuild your family connexions. I think you will have to defy him if you choose to do this, however. Honestly, I'm deeply uncomfortable with making this offer without Bucky here, but Mary-Claire is right. You need to have the option."

"Thank you. I need to take some time to think about it. Are you going to tell Yasha, Steve?"

"Yes, and I will let him know that I've already talked to you. That should make things easier for you to bring up. He will blame me, not you."

Thea asked a little suspiciously, "Why are you doing this, Steve?"

"Primarily because Buck and I have each other. We are the only family each of us has left. When Bucky…when he fell…from the train, I mean, it destroyed me. I can only imagine how your brothers feel, since they are in the same boat that I was. I don't know them, but I suppose that I imagine how they are mourning your loss and so they need to get you back. They already lost enough."

Surprised, Thea responded, "Thank you. You are absolutely right."

* * *

"Steve. Steve! Hey, Rogers."

Steve looked up with a startled exclamation and then replied ruefully, "Sorry, Natasha. Were you saying something?"

"Steve, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. I was just thinking about a few things."

Standing in the doorway, Sam made a dismissive sound. "You are not fine, man. Not at all. Do we need to schedule another visit to Geneva?"

Steve shoved his hands in his hair and made a sound of intense frustration. "I am fine, Sam. It is too soon to return. You know that Natasha didn't like the appearance of those four men who she saw. I cannot risk being recognised."

"It isn't illegal for you to be in Switzerland. You aren't wanted by their government and they would not extradite you, Steve."

"I know that, which is why I have even risked setting foot there." Steve hunched over further, so he was staring down at the ground near his feet. "Yet, there are those who do not care about legality if it would mean they could capture me. They don't care about the safety of my wife and kids either, Sam."

Sam shook his head sadly. "I know. It's a genuine risk, but if you cannot get a hold on yourself better, then we either need to take that risk or stop going out on missions."

"Sam."

"Nah, Steve. This is me being serious here. Natasha agrees, too."

Steve snapped his head up and peered over at Natasha, who looked distinctly displeased with Sam. However, it was clear to him that she was not going to deny what Sam had said either. "I do not _need_ to schedule a trip to Switzerland, Sam, no matter how much I want it. Frankly, I don't know how much more of a 'hold' on myself you can expect me to have. Have I messed up the missions, Sam?"

"You know you haven't."

"Well, then I'm doing my job. I have spent a sum total of 61 hours with my sons in the eight months that they have been alive, Sam. Yet, I'm still out here, ranging around the continent stopping the proverbial bad guys in the remnants of my old uniform. No shield, no Captain America, just whoever Nomad is. No team to back us up, but we do ok just the three of us. We're getting it done and, really, I'm doing my best, Sam."

"Ok, Steve. We've been kicking the a**es of traffickers and terrorists and it's felt pretty good. We are worried about you, not your leadership skills. No matter what it meant for you personally, you'd brilliantly command us with your last breath. But you're our friend, not just our captain. We do care about what it means to you personally."

"I'm fine. I really am as fine as anyone can be given the situation." Steve groaned and then looked at both of them in turn before stating, "I have promised you both that when either of you are ready to stop, then we stop. No questions asked. Is it time?"

Natasha sat down beside him on the old motel bed. "What we are doing matters, Steve."

"I know. I still believe in what we are trying to do, Natasha. I really do. These people need help and no one else is going to do it. It isn't aliens or any of the old Avengers stuff, just us using our abilities to help the people who really need it."

Sam stayed quite still as he leant against the wall across from Steve and Natasha. He did not speak for a while, as he carefully watched them both. "We need to set aside the issue of what we are doing for a moment. There are always going to be s*ckwipes that need a beating. However, it stops being our job when it is taking too much of a toll on us. I am seriously concerned about the two of you. We can help others, but not at the expense of losing ourselves. Y'all are the ones who decide. I'm going to do what you two decide."

Natasha laid her hand on Steve's arm. "Steve."

"I want to do this. I cannot stay in Geneva. Can't go back home to New York. Cannot stay in Wakanda. So, if I don't have a home, then I might as well make myself useful wherever I'm needed."

Natasha nodded and then looked at Sam, who clearly got her message, since he said, "Ok, Steve. Then we keep up the fugitive good guy work for now."

* * *

The sun in the Azeri countryside was gorgeous. He didn't remember the last time that he'd taken the time to just sit and bask in the glory of the morning. The landscape in front of him was the kind that begged to be sketched, even painted if he'd had the supplies and time. Mary-Claire would be awake by now. Hopefully, she and Thea had hit it off. He knew that Mary-Claire had understood how desperately he wanted them to be friends. Bucky's girl was basically his sister-in-law, so she was now family. However, the sole reason for Thea's visit—her brothers—was a complicating factor. It was not as if Mary-Claire and Thea would be sitting around just watching the babies and talking. The reconnexion with Thea's family might go very poorly indeed. There was no way to tell. He was just glad that Thea was getting the chance. Yet, he wasn't sure how long it would be until Bucky was willing to talk to him again without making threats. Or use English.

His phone made a soft chirping sound—quiet enough that only someone with enhanced hearing could hear. Looks like it was time to go back to work after all. Natasha had promised him two hours of privacy. Must be something happening, since it had only been 40 minutes.

He looked at the screen and then, with a yelp, answered the call and breathlessly questioned, "Yeah? Bucky? What is it?" It couldn't be good. Bucky was too angry with him to call for anything but help.

Immediately, Steve knew that something was VERY wrong, as his friend's voice was raw with terror and fury as he growled, "They took our families, Steve."

Steve picked up the pace of his running even as the world around him faded to grey and he shouted, "They…WHAT?!"

Bucky snarled into the phone, "Steve, we will find them."

Breathing heavily now, as he was running almost at his top limit back towards where Natasha and Sam were waiting near the quinjet, Steve demanded, "The children?"

A distinct pause in Bucky's breathing told Steve what he needed to know. Then Bucky's reply followed with stark misery, "The house was empty…so, they think so."

He could see Natasha jump up in alarm as soon as she saw him running up the hill. He waved urgently at her, as he desperately risked asking for further elucidation, "Do we know if…if…"

Grunting with pain that sounded every bit as unbearable as what Steve felt, Bucky replied more quietly, "No, Steve. I know nothing more."

Steve snatched up his two bags from beside the folding chair and shouted, "S***. Sam! Sam! Get the quinjet going. Now!"

Tossing his bags inside, he then turned back and grabbed up the two crates and another duffle bag, which he threw into the quinjet without much concern for any fragile weaponry inside. Bucky's low voice rumbled in his ear, as he asked, "You have Romanova, too?"

Wrapping his arm around all three folded chairs, he hauled them to the door of the quinjet, almost running into Sam. Sam's face was wild with concern and worry, but Steve gestured to the controls, which sent Sam hurrying to warm up the engines quickly. Natasha was racing over with the last of their bags, as he responded to Bucky, "Yeah, she's running over now. Aw, s***, Bucky. This can't be real. They got my wife and boys? I am gonna tear their f***in' faces off. Our children, Buck. Are they sure?"

Natasha closed the door to the quinjet, leaving their unimportant or replaceable gear outside as the high-pitched whine of the engines told them both they could leave nearly any minute. Steve dropped into the seat beside Sam.

Unfortunately, Bucky's response was completely unreassuring. "Yeah, Steve. They seem to be. I dunno more yet, but I will. Soon."

Steve made a low, feral moan that made Sam reach out one hand to grip Steve's shoulder and Natasha, who was in the back stowing the gear, cursed loudly in Russian. Ignoring them both, Steve demanded with pained rawness, "Bucky…there is only one way this ends. Yes?"

Laughing aggressively, Bucky then growled, "One way, Steve. Not sure how many are coming with me, but T'Challa is helping."

"Good. Good. Nat! Natasha! Geneva, how long?"

She hurried up to the front, somehow keeping her balance as Sam's unusually rough take-off tilted the quinjet precariously to one side. "Forty minutes at top speed. What happened, Steve?"

Steve closed his eyes and said only, "They got our families."

The phone was still pinned between Steve's shoulder and his ear, so he heard Bucky say firmly, "Let me talk to Romanova while you get ready. I'll see you there, Steve. One way."

Bucky would be at his side. Whether they saved their families so life went on or if the world ended, at least they would be going into it together. "Ok. One way. Together?"

"Together, Steve."

Steve handed the phone to Natasha, who began a rapid, serious conversation with Bucky in Russian. Steve knew only very basic Russian, so he turned to Sam and asked, "Let me use your phone?"

Sam's voice was thick with emotion as he replied, "Yeah. Of course. It's in my green bag in the outer pocket. You aren't finally calling Stark are you? Because that will not go well."

Steve unbuckled his strap and stood up, walking past Natasha, and nearly launching himself at Sam's flight bag. Inside, he found the phone and knelt down on the floor as he punched out the number for Mary-Claire's cousin. When Glenn did not answer, Steve immediately dialled the other one. The number he had been saving,

"Uh…hello?"

Who was…Banner? "Bruce? This is Steve. Steve Rogers."

"Yeah, I know, Steve. What is wrong?"

"Bucky and me, our families have been taken."

"They what? Where? Do you know who?"

Steve propped himself up with one hand on Sam's bag as he tried to speak clearly. "We know nothing. They were all in Geneva together last we knew. At my house there."

"Well, s***, Steve. What do you want us to do? How can we help?"

"Tony has been talking or emailing or something with Mary-Claire."

Bruce's surprise was evident as he responded, "Really? Huh. Well, he's kept that close to the vest, so I didn't know."

Steve cleared his throat and explained uncomfortably, "There is a plan. Tony got involved when Mary-Claire went to him a couple days before the raid on my New York apartment."

Bruce sighed. "Yeah. We all heard about that, Steve, and believe me that _everyone_ was furious. Especially Tony."

"Will he help, Bruce? Maybe data-mine for information or, honestly, I was calling to ask him to come, but I'll take anything. I'm not asking for him to forgive and forget anything I did, ok? Just…it's our families."

Bruce's voice was confident, as he answered, "Of course. I am sure Tony will help. He's on the phone right now with someone else. Looks pretty intense, actually, so I'm not sure what that is. Can you wait to talk to him?"

"Yeah. We are en route to Geneva right now…hold on. This is Mary-Claire's cousin calling. Maybe he knows something. I need to go, Bruce."

"Just have someone call us with an update when you get one. If you want a Code Green, then you got that, too."

His voice deepening with emotion, Steve replied, "I don't think we need that, Bruce, but thank you. Seriously, thank you." He then desperately switched the phone to the other call and shouted, "Glenn? Hello?"

But it was Mary-Claire's voice he heard. "Hello, it's me, Steve."

Steve's vision blacked out completely for a moment and he had to force himself to remain conscious enough to respond. "Baby, are you ok? What the h*ll happened? Where are you?"

"Steve? Steve, what is wrong?"

"I don't know. Bucky said they took you. The house is empty and the Wakandans thought that all of you had been taken. Are the children with you? You are truly ok?"

Mary-Claire's was clearly terrified as she replied shakily, "I'm at a hotel, Steve. I wanted to give Thea and her brothers time alone. She and her children stayed there with them last night. Glenn and the babies are here with me. We are ok. I promise. We are fine."

"Password."

"Valkyrie."

"Second Password."

"Red Hook."

"Third Password."

"Riley. Steve, no one has taken us prisoner. I'm speaking my own words. I'm not in distress. It is ok. I love you."

"Thank G-d. I had to be sure. Since you are ok, then I need you to start calling around. Find your contacts. We need to know what has happened to Thea and Buck's kids. Can you do that immediately, beautiful?"

"Of course. Here, talk to Glenn and I'll start calling around right now."

Steve groaned. He did not want to speak to Glenn instead of his girl—she was safe, she was ok, she was fine—but he needed to make sure Glenn started security procedures immediately.

"Yeah."

"Looks like Thea Barnes and her children were taken last night. Not sure by whom or where they are. Time to implement the final security plan."

"F***."

"Exactly. Call Stark now. I already talked to Banner, who was going to tell him. So, he'll be aware of the situation, but you can coordinate with him. Then I want you to call the other number I gave you. The guy is crazy, but he will stop at nothing to keep Mary-Claire and the children safe on the way to the embassy."

"Who is he?"

Steve's voice hardened. "It doesn't matter, Glenn. He will do it for me and that is all that matters. He knows that he might get a call."

After a short pause, Glenn said stiffly, "Yeah, ok. Ok. Mary-Claire needs to talk to you."

"Ok." Steve took a deep, shaky breath, as he waited for his wife to speak.

"Steve? Ok, this is so bad. So, so bad. It is not a sanctioned arrest or anything approved by any government. The British embassy is involved, since Sir Richard and Thomas were being held on suspicion of murder. Almost as soon as a message got through to the embassy, however, the charges were suddenly dropped. Yet by that point, the Swiss police discovered that Thea and the children disappeared from the police station where they were being held as supposed witnesses. Thea's brothers are being deported, however."

"Murder? Who?"

Mary-Claire made a small, miserable sound and then explained, "I don't know yet who, Steve. It wasn't Thea or the children though, since they were carted away to the police station only to disappear. The police are blaming the British, as if they spirited them away. The British are blaming the Swiss. Someone has them, Steve. I just don't know who yet. I have only just started reaching out to my contacts, but…Steve? It is time to start the plan. We are mostly ready. Seventy percent, perhaps. We can make it work. There really isn't any choice. You go and get them. I'm going to start the forces moving on my end."

Steve raked his fingers through his beard as he moaned, "F***. D*** it, Mary-Claire. I am not ready to start this."

"I know. Neither am I. However, we are ready enough that we can make it work. And they have no idea that we are organised and ready to strike back. Honey, we have to do it now. You go find Thea and the children."

He dropped his voice and said more gently, "You know that it might…"

Mary-Claire interrupted. "I know, but you have to go anyway. I love you so much, Steve. So much."

Giving up all pretence at control, Steve stammered, "My dearest, I-I cannot find the words. I d-don't know how to say what I want. I love you and the boys so much. But I want to say more."

"I know. I understand. Go save them. I love you."

"Goodbye, my beautiful. I love you, too." Steve hung up the phone and remained on his knees for a few moments as he tried and failed miserably to find some self-control. The odds were very high that he had just spoken to his wife for the last time. He hardly said anything that he wanted to explain. She deserved to know how incredible his time with her had been. He ought to have told her just how deeply he worshipped her and how, without her, he would have given up long ago. And now, well, now it was time to go and save Bucky's family. He just had to trust that, as she always seemed to, Mary-Claire knew how he felt.

Steve jumped up from the ground and hurried up to the front of the quinjet. He reached his hand out imperiously, so Natasha handed the phone back to him. "Buck, Buck, I talked to Mary-Claire."

The sound of the phone changed in the way that told Steve he was now on speakerphone, but he had no idea who was listening in. He didn't really care. Bucky swore fervently, "Thank f***. Are they all ok? Where are they?"

How did he even explain? Jeez. "Thea and your children are not there. Mary-Claire hasn't been able to find out where Thea was taken. She is sure it ain't the government though, Buck. Nothin' sanctioned anyway. One of her contacts found out that your brothers-in-law were being held by police for murder, but apparently one of them works for the British Diplomatic Corps and got a message sent through to them. Charges were miraculously dropped and yet they're being expelled from the country."

The pain in Bucky's voice was almost impossible for Steve to bear, as he replied, "Murder? What the f***, Steve? Do they have bodies? How is Mary-Claire there if Thea is gone?"

Steve tried to speak calmly, but was sure he was failing. "'Cause she wasn't in the house when this happened, Buck. Mary-Claire went with her cousin and the twins to a hotel, so Thea and her brothers could have some private family time. So, she didn't know until I called Glenn's phone that anything had happened. She's calling all her contacts now to find out anything she can. I don't know nothin' about the murder charges. None of this makes sense, Bucky."

Bucky's response was largely in Russian, but Steve didn't really need to know the exact content. The situation warranted only the harshest of words, honestly. "S***. Мой член в рот шлюхе! Я покрою их напалмом и подожгу, пока они не будут плакать и просить сладости смерти."

A husky, rich feminine voice spoke clearly, "Ingcuka. Captain Rogers."

Ah, so Bucky was on a plane with the Wakandans, apparently. As Steve considered this with surprise, Bucky responded gravely, "Yes, General?"

Steve put his own phone on speaker so Sam and Natasha could hear just as Okoye said with her usual superlative calm, "We have found a report of two bodies discovered not far from the Mrs Roger's residence. Captain Rogers, they were already identified as members of your wife's household staff: an elderly Swiss housekeeper named Lucinda Amstutz and a young Moldovan nanny, Ludmila Postica. The house seems to have been thoroughly searched according to police reports, but these documents are quite clearly inaccurate and false. It is apparent that the local police are not to be trusted."

Steve said succinctly, "S***."

At his side, Natasha commented slowly, "Geneva police are slow, but usually trustworthy as a group. If the police are bending rules, they have been given believable reasons from someone powerful. Likely someone in the Conseil d'Etat."

Steve asked gruffly, "How do you want to do this, Buck? You tell me where you want us. It's your call."

However, Bucky's reply shocked him. "Actually, Steve, we better let King T'Challa take the lead on this one. If it is only my family that is missing then that makes this a Wakandan concern."

T'Challa was there, too? Steve stood a little taller as he heard the young kind respond firmly, "Very well, Sergeant Barnes. I am honoured by your trust, but very pleased to have this chance to reclaim the honour of Wakanda. Your family was under my personal protection, so I take particular…. _exception_ …to this turn of events."

Steve demanded, "Do we think this is HYDRA?"

His reply firm yet calm, T'Challa said, "Perhaps, Captain. I do not know. However, I think that there is a larger motive behind this, do you not?"

Steve let out a sharp breath and, after a pause, asked, "Do you think it is time to start, your highness? Mary-Claire said that only 70% of the plan was in place, but that it still might work."

"Perhaps so, Captain. Now that we have the excellent news that Mrs Rogers and your children are safe, perhaps it is time to begin."

Steve cleared his throat and prepared himself for Bucky's reaction as he said anxiously, "I called Stark. Thought he might be able to, I don't know, data mine or something. Got Banner instead, who said they will start looking for any chatter online. Banner thought Stark was willing to come help if I needed it. I haven't updated them since I talked to Mary-Claire."

Bucky's sharp response came through immediately, "Does Stark know _everything_ about the plan, Steve?"

"Yeah, he does. Mary-Claire didn't give him all the details at first, but he was smart and confronted her. She decided to let him in on all of it. He will support it, but he doesn't like certain parts of it."

T'Challa solemnly replied, "I believe that Mr Stark is honourable, gentlemen, and he will put emotions aside to do the right thing."

There was a long pause in which Steve could only hear static, but finally Bucky growled, "I will go along with your plan, Steve, but only if we find my family. I'm sorry, but you know what I'm going to do if I don't."

Steve put all of his intent into his words as he promised, "Buck. We will find them."

"Yeah? Well we sure f***in' better. I will burn a strip from Geneva to Khabarovsk if I gotta seek revenge, Steve. You know that."

In sharp contrast to Bucky's fury and aggression, T'Challa quite calmly stated, "Ingcuka, Wakanda stands at your side in this, in addition to Black Widow, Falcon, and Captain Rogers. You are not alone."

Bucky replied in a language that Steve recognised as Xhosa, but which was still unintelligible to him. Okoye's threatening reply was a concern. However, Bucky then switched to English, likely for Steve's benefit and drawled in broad Brooklyn dialect, "That's just what I was sayin', General, ma'am. The Soldier always follows orders and today I'm followin' King T'Challa. I only want all of you to know how I'm gonna do it. There ain't no mercy in my heart and I will bring the worst death I can manage to every one of them f***ers until I got my family out."

Steve's grunted in surprise, but did not speak. Bucky then continued, "Well, Steve, looks like one of you needs to call Stark. He's starting the party early. F***ing bastard's gotta do it his way."

As Steve muttered, "D***, it," Natasha said something rude in Russian.

Finally joining the conversation, Sam said with an annoyed look up at Steve, "Awww, s***, Steve, I told you not to call Tony yet. D***. I'm gonna get shot outta the sky, aren't I? Huh? Steve. Bad enough I'm signing up to go back to that d*** floating prison here, but I'm gonna be shot down by the f***ing Swiss, aren't I?"

Bucky snarled, "Romanova?"

Natasha shoved her phone back into her pocket with a furious expression. "Already tried three times. Maybe a call from your end?"

T'Challa sighed. "Very well."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The quinjet had barely even begun its descent when Steve tore open the door and leapt out onto the tarmac below. He could see Bucky standing there waiting for him—his face painted much like Steve's and his body heavily strapped with an enormous array of weapons. As soon as Steve stood up from his landing position, he saw a reflective flash and realised that Bucky had just flipped Steve's old shield up and into his hand from where it had been laid on the ground. After Bucky sent it flying to Steve using his new black and gold arm, Steve caught it and shouted, "Where's Stark?"

Bucky merely pointed to the grouping of people that Steve could just barely see in the moonlight. His voice carried just far enough for Steve's enhanced senses to hear and the tone and subject made Steve catch his breath at the memories it stirred. "Tryna get yourself killed before we even start, Rogers?" Even he didn't know how many times had SGT Barnes pulled Cap aside during the war to chew him out about forgetting that 'just because you have some unnatural f***in' serum, Steven, which you were a d*** idiot to let them experiment on you with, it doesn't mean that you can't be hurt'.

Steve hurried his steps more as he heard the quinjet finally landing behind him and then replied with a smirk, "Not particularly, Buck."

Punching Steve's upper arm and then handing him a knife and a handgun, Bucky growled, "Then don't be a f***in' moron. Wait until your d*** plane lands next time. What the f*** have your people been letting you get away with? Looks like I need to have a conversation with Romanova."

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and hugged him tightly, his shield hanging on his forearm since he no longer had its harness for his back. Then he said thickly, "Buck. We are going to bring them out alive."

"Or we don't walk out."

"We'll bring them out or we'll fall tryin', Bucky." Steve waved the weapons at Bucky as he continued, "I don't need these, Buck. You know how I feel about using anything other than the shield."

Bucky fell into step beside him as Steve began jogging over to join the Wakandans and Tony. "You're going to carry them without complaining or I'm going to punch your face and _then_ you'll carry them and shut the h*ll up. This isn't about principles, Steve."

"No, it isn't. It is about getting it done and I get it done with the shield best. Trust me, Bucky. I don't care who we have to take down to get Thea and the babies out. This is my best way, Buck. Honest."

"Carry them or I'll take back the shield, Steven."

Steve rubbed the spot where Bucky had punched him again and replied with a grunt of annoyance, "Jeez. I have 'em, don't I? Just don't count on me using 'em."

His quiet voice carrying just enough to interrupt their argument, T'Challa greeted him politely, "Hello, Captain."

Steve nodded at T'Challa and looked firmly at Tony. "Tony." He took several steps forwards and reached out to pull Tony towards him. He gave him a tight hug, which Tony stiffly allowed. As he did so, Steve whispered, "Tony, you are a far better friend than I have been. Thank you. This means the world to me."

Tony stepped back with a weird expression on his face and said quietly, "Of course, I would come, Steve."

"I know. I know and that's what I mean. You're such a good friend. Thank you for bringing the shield."

Tony stared at Steve for another moment and then looked away without replying.

"Captain, I have the layout of the facility here for you to look at. The contingent of personnel both inside and out appears to be quite substantial."

Steve took the device from Okoye and perused it with Bucky for long enough that Sam and Natasha had time to join them.

T'Challa inclined his head slightly and stated welcomingly, "Miss Romanova, Mr Wilson. It is a pleasure, as always."

Tony was silent, but he nodded at Natasha when she said only, "Stark."

Sam smiled at Tony, but got no reply.

Frowning at the tension between Tony and his former teammates, T'Challa authoritatively stated, "Captain, if you would pass that layout to Miss Romanova and Mr Wilson, Okoye will now demonstrate for you the plan that we made en route. I welcome any suggestions, especially from you, Mr Stark."

Tony glanced over at Steve for a moment and then responded to T'Challa with barely a ghost of his usual attitude, "Not really a plan kind of guy, but I guess it would be good to know what you are going to do so I won't f*** it up or something."

It was almost an hour before all the questions were asked and answered, the discussion completed, the tablets with the plans stowed, and all weapons prepared. The moonlight was strong enough to be useful, but not so bright as to give away their approach. The time to begin the engagement was nearly there and Steve was aching to go and smash some of the bastards that did this.

Steve slung his arm around Bucky, who he had watched steadily dropping further and further into his Winter Soldier persona during the mission briefing. He understood the reasons that Bucky was allowing it to happen. It was much like how Steve had consciously shed the external demeanour of Captain America when debating the plan with T'Challa and Tony. They each needed different personas to get through this. Steven Rogers of Brooklyn, USA was going into battle with his best friend to save his friend's family and to exact retribution. However, Bucky Barnes couldn't head into this battle, since he couldn't risk being tempted to put Steve first—as he always had during the war or even in Berlin or Siberia. Conversely, the Winter Soldier would accept nothing other than the successful completion of his mission: the rescue of Thea, Jamie, and Winnie.

Steve had fought _against_ the Winter Soldier, but never with him. That was why Steve needed to make sure his friend held onto at least a small part of Bucky and didn't lose himself to the Winter Soldier entirely. He needed to remind Bucky to stay grounded enough not to lose sight of the fact that he wasn't alone. Steve squeezed his friend's shoulder and then dropped his arm. "Ready, Bucky?"

His voice harsh, Bucky responded, "Ready."

"I know what their plan is, Buck, but you gotta tell me. Do you want us to make any changes just between ourselves?"

Bucky did not look at Steve, as his eyes were rapidly sweeping the area into which they would soon be running. "Negative. The plan is acceptable. It has the maximum application of support forces outside in order to allow us to enter the facility."

"Ok, Buck. But I'm following your lead, not any of theirs. Got it?"

Bucky slipped a second, smaller gun into Steve's pocket as he said, "Understood. Coms on."

"Ok." Steve turned his coms on and heard Tony speaking to T'Challa about plan for the Wakandans to handle the outermost perimeter.

Bucky hunched low to the ground and began scurrying along rapidly with Steve quickly following. As they approached the facility, Bucky flattened to the ground and, when Steve had settled next to him, pointed ahead and to the right. Swinging out his Barrett sniper rifle, Bucky took two patrol personnel down, which signalled the start of the engagement.

They both remained prone, as Bucky easily took out a further six hostiles using the distraction of Iron Man flying above the facility to keep any of the opposing force from venturing out to find their location. As hard as it was for Steve to lay there waiting, he knew it made operational sense to allow Bucky to use his skill as a sniper to winnow down their opposition's number. When he had fired his eleventh shot, Bucky turned to Steve and said, "Time."

Getting up and positioning himself as if he were about to start a race, Steve prepared to launch forwards when Bucky gave the signal. "Ready."

Bucky was crouching beside Steve, however, with his eyes narrowed and head tilted in anticipation. He dropped the Skorpion he had been holding and stealthily reached back for the Barrett again. Then, sweeping the gun in a smooth line from right to left, he took out three targets one after another. After a five second pause, he shot twice more, let the strap of the rifle go, and picked up his Skorpion once again. "Go."

They raced forwards together, matching each other step for step. As Bucky sprayed the horizon in front of them, mowing down whatever came their way; Steve sent his shield flying to take out targets further afield, so their path was clear. Their movements were so attuned that when Steve's shield was still arcing back towards him, Bucky turned and took out the henchman that had slipped close enough that he was considering aiming his gun Steve's way. Yet when Bucky was covering him, Steve caught the shield and took down three henchmen that had run towards them on Bucky's left flank. Catching Steve's shield with his left arm, Bucky grunted, "Thanks." Steve, who had just thrown Bucky's knife directly into the chest of one of the guards standing in front of the doorway, took his shield back from Bucky and launched it again before replying, "Get my knife?"

Bucky ducked and yanked on the handle so it slid out of the guard, then shot two more of the guards with one hand whilst he wiped off the knife and then thrust it at Steve. "Won't use them my a**."

Steve threw the shield at the key pad and then again at the lock before he said with a huff of annoyance. "Shuddup, Buck."

Using his left arm, Bucky wrenched open the door as he sprayed the area behind them with bullets. However, by the time the door was open, Bucky had turned and was using an M4 carbine with an attached grenade launcher. "Firing."

Steve held the shield in front of them at the moment that the grenade exploded and then burst forwards with Bucky to attack the crowd of personnel that rushed their way. Another grenade was launched by Bucky much further down the corridor, as Steve bounced his shield off multiple targets and leapt up to catch it. As he came back down, he punched one guard in the face. As soon as he flung his shield down the left-hand corridor, he ripped the gun out of the hand of one henchman and snapped the neck of another.

Bucky grunted, "Firing," as he punched two of the opposing force in quick succession. Then, they raced down the corridor, through the door, and down the stairs. Steve allowed Bucky to take the lead, as he kept his eyes trained on the floors above them. Once they had descended to the level where their intel led them to believe they would find Thea and the children, Steve threw his shield so quickly and so many times that when Bucky snarled, "Firing," Steve stopped and whipped out his gun for a respite.

"Pause."

Steve froze and waited as Bucky listened. He looked past the row of bodies in both directions and, satisfied that there was no resistance remaining, asked, "Well?"

"Continue. This is the correct direction."

They hurried down the empty corridor and raced together as fast as their legs could run. When the next group of henchmen burst forwards, Bucky simply stated, "Firing." Then, when the grenade had done its work, sprayed so many bullets at the men that Steve decided that only one kill was definitely his own.

When they reached the double doors through which they hoped to find Bucky's family, Steve threw the shield to break the lock. Then, Bucky wrenched the right-hand door off its hinges. Yet, when they looked inside, there was no one. This was an interrogation chamber and it had recently been used. The horrible smell of burnt flesh still hung in the air, mixed with the odour of bodily fluids and ozone. The car battery and electrical apparatus still sat on the floor next to a chair, which told Steve clearly what had gone on there.

Bucky stood with his gun arm stiffly holding the carbine towards the door and looked at Steve as he screamed with pain that was horrifying for Steve to witness. Then Bucky shouted in enraged Russian, "Я буду бить их по голове, пока их мозги не станут как желе. Я уберу их кишки и натяну их как гирлянду. Они все мертвы. Я буду мучить каждого из них по очереди, а потом смеюсь."

Steve understood just enough of what Bucky had said to know that if they did not find Thea or the children alive soon that Bucky would tip over the edge into insanity. "Buck, come on. Come on! Remember, we weren't sure. It has to be the other place. Downstairs. Remember?"

Bucky screamed wildly again and then surged forwards. Steve hurried so he was back at Bucky's side as they headed to the stairs. Neither of them waited to climb down, but simply leapt over the railing and landed on the level below. Probably alerted to their presence as much by Bucky's shouting as by the sound of two large super soldiers landing on the other side of the door, there was a crowd of henchmen ready for them in the corridor. As he followed Bucky, who was madly firing grenades and punching everything he could reach, Steve felt a slicing sensation on his chest. He realised with surprise that a flying, bladed disk had returned to the hand of a petite, dark haired woman who was now running towards him. He threw the shield at the two men who were running at Bucky and shot the woman in the forehead, yet not before she had time to throw the disk again. The blade caught his face and the arm that he had used to shield it with, but Steve was merely relieved to see that Bucky had avoided injury from the barrage of knives that had been thrown his way by a tall, beefy man that Steve's shield had missed due to the man's unexpected movement. Tossing the shield once more, Steve managed to strike the man in the head as he shot the last person standing at the door to the room they were looking for. He threw the shield at the lock of the door and then stood to the side as Bucky grasped the door handle.

Once the door had been removed and discarded, first Bucky and then Steve entered the cold, damp concrete cell. Thea was laying on the floor, her arms covered in horrible marks and her legs bent at an angle that boded ill for her ability to walk out of the facility with them.

The baby was laid in Thea's arms, wrapped up in what appeared to be a pale pink jumper, and was squalling in the way that Steve knew from his poverty-stricken childhood meant starvation. Jamie had his arms wrapped around Thea's neck and was silent and shaking. Without even discussing it with Bucky, he knew what his friend wanted. Steve did not pause to speak, but simply grabbed up Jamie as Bucky picked up both Thea and Winnie.

Both of them turned immediately to leave without a word. Steve placed his shield in front of Jamie and then waited for Bucky to be ready. Bucky adjusted his hold on Thea so she would be able to hold the baby whilst he carried her. Only allowing himself a single kiss on his wife's forehead, Bucky sent a heavily charged look at Steve that contained a clear message and then stormed out of the room.

As they approached the door to the stairs, however, Thea suddenly screamed in agony, which caused both Steve and Bucky to stop and look at her in horror.

As his eyes darted around them, watching their perimeter, Bucky growled thickly in Russian, "Мы не можем остановиться, Белла. Их больше. Мы должны вытащить тебя отсюда." ( _Can_ _'_ _t_ _stop_ _,_ _Bella_ _._ _There still are more of them. Need to get you out.)_

Thea's weak voice barely managed to enunciate the words enough to be understood. "We have to get the children to safety. Please, Yasha, don't worry about me."

Bucky glanced down at her and nodded. He then turned back to Steve and, with only a look, silently told Steve both that he was going to have to take Winnie when it came time for the final run and that Thea was not going to lose consciousness soon. Steve understood the implications of that development. He had to protect the children behind the shield. Bucky would be holding onto Thea, since she would be unable to do so. Neither of them would be able to do almost anything to defend themselves. They would just have to run at top speed and hope that their support force outside would make up the difference.

* * *

Steve leant exhaustedly into the restraints that were keeping him immobilised in the vehicle that was taking them to the Wakandan embassy. He really hadn't thought that they were going to make it. When they had raced out that door for the final run…it had not been good. Even his super serum was going to take some time to heal all his gunshot wounds. But the state of Bucky's wife was haunting him. She had been so badly tortured that she'd looked like some of the POWs that they'd rescued during the war. And worse, so much worse, was how very, very ill the baby had looked. He had to hope that she had inherited some of Bucky's enhanced healing just like Jamie, since otherwise…otherwise, he did not think that the child was going to make it.

When they had reached the agreed upon extraction point—where they were meant to surrender themselves to Wakanda for arrest and detention—Bucky's grip on Thea had been so tight and his desperation so severe, that T'Challa himself had intervened to try to get through to Bucky. In fact, it had taken Steve speaking to him for Bucky to release his wife. After that, a massive dose of sedatives had been required to calm Bucky sufficiently to keep him from going completely feral once they had peeled Thea off of him. Once the three darts had found their mark in Bucky's neck and he had slumped back with a dazed expression, Steve had repeatedly promised that the Wakandans would not break their word: Thea and the children would be protected and treated with the best medical care. That seemed to be the only thing that kept Bucky present and sane.

He heard Bucky moving beside him and turned to face his friend. He knew that look too well. "Buck, T'Challa himself promised. He will not fail us."

"Ее пытали."

Steve frowned. "I don't know that word, Buck. What do you want?"

Natasha's weak voice spoke up from the other side of Sam. "She was tortured."

Well, s***. He wanted to talk about it now. "Yeah, she was, Buck."

Buck rasped out, "Моя маленькая дочка умрет."

Daughter and dead. S***. "No, they said she has a good chance, Bucky. She could make it. Remember Jamie? Remember my boys? Our kids can survive a lot."

Bucky shook his head and heaved for a moment before he sunk back from the shoulder restraints that he had been pushing against. "Стив, почему они не убили меня? Я думал, что Росс найдет способ уложить меня, как собаку, когда мы сдались. Почему они не убили меня? Я подвел свою семью."

Natasha did not wait for Steve to indicate he needed a translation. "He thought Ross would have him killed when we surrendered, so he is wondering why they didn't. He wanted to die, I think. He says he failed his family." She turned her head towards Bucky and caught his attention. "Твоя семья нуждается в тебе сейчас, солдат."

Bucky's eyes glazed over and he turned away, heaving again until he began to lose consciousness.

"Buck! Bucky!"

Natasha shouted, "Отчет, Cолдат!"

His eyes popped open and Bucky stared at Natasha. His shoulders rolled back and his head slowly raised so he could focus. Then he began a long torrent of Russian—only parts of which Steve could understand. If he had to guess, the Winter Soldier had accepted the Black Widow as his handler and was giving a report.

Steve could see that she was pushing herself almost to the point of breaking as Natasha barked, "Теперь говорите только по-английски, а не по-русски. Твое товарищи не понимают. Повторите себя, Cолдат."

Bucky then began speaking in a low monotone. "Hostages secured with significant injuries. Probability of survival unknown. Thirty-seven confirmed kills of hostiles in addition to 29 incapacitated and 9 eliminated by my partner. Function is impaired due to broken left ulna and clavicle, six cracked ribs, concussion, torn right ilio-tibial and patellar bands, and involuntary sedation. Mission complete, but outcome unknown. Destination unknown. Primary directive now uncertain."

Steve forcefully replied, "The primary directive is to cooperate with the Wakandan authorities, soldier."

Bucky turned his head slowly to look at Steve and then back to Natasha with such a confused expression that Steve wanted to shout.

Natasha nodded to Bucky and said, "Follow the Captain, Soldat. He is your handler. I am mission support."

Bucky took two shivering breaths and then said thickly, "Cooperate with Wakanda."

"That's right, Buck. They will be treating Thea and Jamie, as well as monitoring Winnie's care at the hospital. Probability of survival is good. Do you understand, soldier?"

"Understood."

The vehicle came to a stop and Steve let out a long breath to calm himself. This was it. Bucky had to behave appropriately, since there would likely be press waiting outside the embassy. "I need to know; will you cooperate with the authorities?"

"I will comply."

The door to the transport vehicle was thrown open and several heavily armoured personnel entered. They were clearly not Wakandan, nor did their uniforms have badges. "Listen up! We are not here to be gentle or kind. We are just waiting for a chance to f*** up the face of the first one of you that resists or disobeys. So, what we are going to do now is take you each into the building and place you in the nice little cages that are waiting for each of you. Sound good?"

Steve said quietly, "None of us is going to resist."

"Speak for yourself, _Captain_. I'm looking forwards to tasering the face off the Winter Soldier here at the first opportunity."

Bucky stated softly, "I will comply."

"Oh, you'll comply, will you? That wasn't what I heard. They said it took enough tranq darts to knock out an elephant for you to calm down."

His voice even firmer, Bucky repeated, "I will comply."

"F***ing robot got rebooted, did he? Well, _Captain_ , you better hope that your pet assassin doesn't put a toe out of line. I will put a bullet in his brain and sleep like a baby tonight."

Steve shook his head. "All of us will cooperate. We surrendered to the Wakandan authorities voluntarily."

"Well, Captain, do we look like we are Wakandan?"

Natasha replied stiffly, "Obviously not. However, we surrendered in good faith. Therefore, we will do what you ask."

The other men entered the truck behind their leader and began unfastening the restraints on Natasha and Sam. Once both of them were removed from the van, the chains on Steve were unfastened from the vehicle and linked together. He was then pulled out of the truck and carried/dragged by two of the black outfitted men into the building, which was clearly NOT the Wakandan embassy.

Steve's stomach dropped and he felt a chill race over his skin as he and Bucky were led into the building. This was not how things were supposed to happen. Where had their plan gone wrong?

Steve hobbled along at Bucky's side and was led into a large, cement room where a short, blond man in an immaculate suit was seated with his legs casually crossed on the only chair in the room. "Captain Rogers."

"Agent Ross."

"That was quite a display that you and your…friends…put on tonight."

Steve did not answer, but looked away to see where Sam and Natasha were standing still shackled and yet without guards on the far wall of the room. He then glanced at Bucky, whose demeanour had, surprisingly, not changed.

"Quite a lot of information has come into my hands since the last time that I saw you."

"Surprising what correct intelligence can do, isn't it, Agent?"

Agent Ross shrugged and looked at Bucky. "Better intelligence. Or a different perspective. Secretary Ross wants you all detained and moved to the Raft."

Steve sighed. "I am not surprised."

"You are not going to fight, Captain?"

"We knew the risks of coming here. The mission had to be completed regardless of the cost to us."

"The mission, Captain? Do you mean the releasing from illegal detention and torture of the Winter Soldier's wife and children?"

Bucky let out a low, miserable moan, but did not speak. Steve looked over at him and saw that he was clenching his fists and his eyes were closed, as tears streamed down his face.

"What else would I mean, Agent? Thea and the children should have been safe from harm. They were staying in my home where my own wife and children live. They are all non-combatants. They committed no crimes."

Agent Ross shook his head. "Aiding and abetting fugitives. Harbouring a fugitive. Conspiring to commit terroristic acts. There are quite a few charges that could be lobbied against both your wife and Theodora Barnes. There are also charges that will be filed against all four of you, since this rescue mission was not authorised. The local government was not informed, nor was permission even sought."

Steve's face flushed deep red with anger. "The local government was complicit: they handed Thea and the children over to these people. And the precise group that would approve a rescue is the one which kidnapped her. You know all of this, Ross. Nor will you be able to charge my wife, Ross. Mary-Claire has been exceedingly careful. I am afraid that she far outclasses you when it comes to legal machinations."

"In that, Captain, you are correct. She is the one who forwarded to me all of the information about Secretary Ross, as well as the secret Winter Soldier file."

He tried to keep his surprise from showing, but Steve had never been good at lies and subterfuge.

Agent Ross continued, "It seems that we might have been hasty beforehand in judging the Winter Soldier's culpability in his actions. Detention without trial for actions committed under the circumstances of a prisoner of war held for decades is not acceptable. Looks like your friend is going to get his lawyer after all, Captain. You all are."

"I do not mean to sound ungrateful, Agent, but what is the point of bringing us here? Did you plan to interrogate us?"

Ross stood up and walked slowly over to Steve. "No. I think that you are going to tell me everything that I want to know and all I will have to do is ask."

Steve shrugged. "We surrendered, Agent Ross. We were not captured. Any one of us could escape from this room with extreme ease. The four of us together could wreak enough havoc that you and your Joint Terrorism Task Force would be mopping up for weeks. We are remaining here solely because I chose for this to happen. We are not the bad guys, but I have yet to be convinced about you."

Ross laughed with sarcasm as he looked around at his four prisoners. "You actually think that you could escape this room alive? Do you know how much security there is in this building?"

Natasha sighed loudly and began listing off all the multitude of security precautions that the Task Force had taken in setting up the black site, until Ross' smirk fell from his face. Finally, she said, "And I estimate 22 Task Force personnel surrounding the area."

Bucky did not lift his head from staring at the ground, as he added, "You missed an alarm at the end of the third hall, two additional cameras behind the blast doors, a turret gun in the corner of the second hall, and I believe the personnel are closer to 24, Natalia."

Sam added, "The roof had at least six snipers, not five, and I saw a tripwire surrounding the parking lot."

Annoyed, Natasha muttered, "Well, it's been a long day."

His eyes trained directly on Ross, Steve added, "And automatic sensors for the blast doors. I don't think that we missed much, did we, Agent Ross?"

"No, you did not, Captain Rogers. I admit that I am painfully aware of you and your friends' superior skill sets. We are grateful that you decided to come quietly. What I would like to know is why?"

Bucky whispered so quietly that only Steve could hear, "Function impairment is critical."

Steve popped the chain around his hands like it was merely a cobweb and leapt towards Bucky, who was going down hard. Fortunately, Steve was able to keep Bucky's head from hitting the ground. Sam and Natasha both rushed over, avoiding where Ross was standing stiffly observing. Steve reached up with his left hand and broke Sam's handcuffs with a single squeeze, then asked, "Need help, Nat?"

Natasha glared at him as she wiggled her wrists and then jerked her arms, causing the chains to fall to the ground, so she was able to get down on the floor next to Steve. "Should we roll him? There must be an injury on his back that he didn't catalogue in his report earlier."

Sam sharply interjected, "Wait. Stabilise his neck first. Yep, now roll him. Aw, s***, Barnes." Sam looked back at Ross and asked, "Didn't your people even look at him when they had us at medical?"

Agent Ross shook his head. "He stated that he was functional, so we didn't risk it."

"For Barnes, functional was what he learnt to say so HYDRA wouldn't punish him, Ross." Natasha's anger was blazing as she tried to palpate the place where Bucky was bleeding.

Sam cursed under his breath. "I think there might be a separation. Wait, Natasha. Let me have a closer look before you do anything else. Steve, would you take off his shirt?"

As Ross stood watching, he asked cautiously, "What is wrong with him?"

Sam furiously replied, "You mean beside the broken left ulna and clavicle, six cracked ribs, concussion, and torn right ilio-tibial and patellar bands that he admitted to on the way here? It looks to me like separation at the site of the prosthetic. Probably from when those two goons tried to wrench his wife out of his arms as he was running from the facility."

Steve had ripped the shirt entirely off Bucky by now, which meant they could all see the enormous slice that went across Bucky's lower back, in addition to the deep purple bruise that surrounded the attachment site of the arm. Steve grunted with anger and misery, then began wiping the blood away with the torn remnants of Bucky's shirt.

Yet at that moment, Steve and Natasha could hear a rush of people entering the room stealthily behind them. They jumped to their feet in tandem and swung about to protect Bucky and Sam. However, what they saw were a group of at 15 Wakandans, including Okoye, who greeted Ross sourly, "Agent Ross."

"General Okoye. It looks as if one of your prisoners has been very badly injured and needs immediate care."

"You were meant to take care of them yourself, Ross. They were in your care after we allowed you to take them."

"We were unaware of the state of his injuries. I apologise."

Realising that Ross was apparently working with the Wakandans, Steve said forcefully, "Your people did not even attempt to examine him, Agent. Will you be able to treat him, General?"

Okoye nodded sharply and spoke to two of her people, who moved forwards and took over from Sam, who had continued trying to treat Bucky as the others had talked. "Your staff out there is slightly displeased about the prisoner transfer, Agent Ross."

Agent Ross laughed. "I don't give a s*** what they think, to be honest. There is no call for what happened to Barnes' family and I will take personal pleasure in making certain that all available evidence is turned over to the correct authorities. Also, Secretary Ross is a complete d*ck, so if I find—as I fully expect I will—that he is involved, then I will truly enjoy watching him burn."

"I expect that we will continue to be able to count on your help, Everett Ross."

"You may, General Okoye, of that you may be certain. Honestly, I prefer work that has rules and boundaries in simple terms without nuance, but there is nothing simple or easy about any part of this situation. I am uncomfortable with amnesty for any lawbreakers, General, but even I have to admit that this particular law is not only terrible but was only ever intended to make being Enhanced a crime."

Her haughty expression tightening further, Okoye replied, "As my king has been at pains to explain to you, Everett Ross. Now, I will take my prisoners with me and leave you to your paperwork."

The doors to the room opened and two of the Joint Terrorism Task Force members came in with a stretcher. When they saw that all four of the rogue Avengers were free of their restraints, the men rapidly raised their guns and began shouting for them to get on the floor.

"Yes, thank you, gentlemen. We are quite capable of managing our prisoners. You may stand down."

The two men looked back and forth between General Okoye, whose fierce gaze was clearly not one to ignore, and Agent Ross.

"Put your guns away, you idiots. We are transferring custody of Captain Rogers and his colleagues to the Wakandan government. In fact, Perkins, pull the men back and gather them in the warehouse. Time for an after action review and, honestly, it isn't going to be pretty."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Well, your attorney is here, Captain Rogers."

Steve sat up from where he had been laying on the flat slab that ran the length of his small cell. He pointedly looked over at the cage where they were keeping Bucky and asked, "And Bucky's attorney?"

"Seems you have the same one. Imagine that. There's been a lot happening in the last 24 hours. When they awaken the beast over there, seems like he's going to get a hearing to determine for certain his identity, citizenship, POW status, and all the diplomatic fun that comes with that."

"Good."

"Doesn't mean there isn't going to be a trial, Rogers."

Steve looked Ross directly in the eye and said sternly, "I welcome it. There are things that the public needs to know and a trial will help with that."

"I hope that you think it is worthwhile when they sentence you, Rogers. Because, I gotta tell you, I don't see any way that you get out of this without prison time. It isn't just the international governments that are looking to put you away."

"I made the decisions that I did, since those same international governments were the ones who decided to execute my friend without any trial or attempt to validate their so-called evidence. It proved very simple to confirm that everything was falsified, Ross. They wanted Bucky dead. It was vigilante justice and it was wrong."

His expression blank and tone making his disdain very clear, Ross replied, "Maybe so, Rogers, but you broke the law."

Steve closed his eyes for a moment and then quietly quoted, "That to secure these rights—the founders were specifically referencing life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness there, Ross—governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it."

Derisively snorting with laughter in reply, Ross commented, "Great, so you want to quote the Constitution to me. What are you saying, Rogers, you want a revolution?"

"That was the Declaration of Independence and don't be ridiculous, Ross. The Enhanced people of the world do not want to abolish our governments. We are all proud to be American, Canadian, Russian, Sokovian, Wakandan, or whatever nationality we hold."

"Right. You seem very proud, I'm sure. That why you dyed your All-American uniform black, Rogers?"

"No. I and the people working with me only want to alter the laws that are unjust, Ross. Don't you? Do you approve of laws that actually make it _illegal_ for Enhanced people to use very basic functions of our bodies without permission from an international committee? Currently, I could be arrested just for opening the door for someone, as my strength is considered a weapon under the Sokovia Accords. These laws may make it easier to torture a confession out of someone, but do you honestly support laws that allow men like your Task Force to detain, mistreat, or kill a man who has not even been charged with a crime? Your own people attempted to do all three of those things to Bucky, Ross. Lastly, can you defend laws that allow inhumane measures to be regularly used upon any Enhanced that is detained under suspicion of having planned to disregard the Sokovia Accords? This law has enabled some countries to enact shocking measures inside their own borders. Families have been separated. Minors have been imprisoned. Enhanced have been electrocuted, starved, kept in sensory deprivation tanks, and shockingly mistreated."

"Good speech. I can tell that you've been practicing. Keep it up and you might actually make some traction if they allow the press to cover your trial. But, in the meantime, I am responsible for your detention, so you better get used to it. I'll send in your attorney."

Steve turned away from him with a disappointed shake of his head. "Very well. Thank you, Ross."

The click-clack of a pair of very high heels caught his attention, so he swung around and waited anxiously. When Mary-Claire came into view, Steve felt everything in him relax and yet surge forwards with excitement.

"I need to be alone with my client. I require privacy to discuss the case. You know that you are not allowed to monitor us."

Ross frowned angrily. "One hour. That is all you are permitted."

"I am permitted as much time as is needed to prepare my client's defence. If that is 30 minutes or 5 hours, then I will take the time that I need." Mary-Claire pulled out a large white disk and set it on the floor. "The authorities are aware that I will be using this piece of Stark technology to detect and jam any surveillance. I also require a chair and the cell door to be opened. There are documents that I need my client to both peruse and sign."

"Rogers has to remain shackled. This isn't a conjugal visit."

As Steve snarled angrily, Mary-Claire held up her hand to stop him from speaking and then peered at Ross through narrowed eyes. "If you speak to me like that again, Agent Ross, then I will not hesitate to report you. As per my agreement with the Council, I have been recording everything since the moment that I entered the Wakandan outpost here and will continue to do so until I leave, so I would have no trouble providing proof."

Ross released Steve's cell door and dragged a small chair into the space next to the slab where Steve was sitting. Then he stood in front of Mary-Claire and took a deep breath, before he responded, "You are right. That was inappropriate and I apologise. I'll leave the two of you to discuss the legal situation then, shall I?"

As soon as the door to the detention area was closed, Steve turned to Mary-Claire and asked, "Are you ok? How are you? The children are alright, too?"

She clicked a button on the side of the disk, which began to glow. At his questioning glance, she explained, "Signal disruptor. We should be safe from recording devices, although that does include my own. So, when Ross or any guards return, I will have to turn this off so whatever they say is recorded. Yes, the boys are perfectly fine. They are with Glenn and Mileva, our temporary nanny, right now."

"But what about you, Mary-Claire? How are you doing?"

She smiled exhaustedly at him and responded, "I am as ok as I possibly can be, Steve. I don't think that I have slept in two days, but I've had to run around to so many meetings and make so many calls that there just hasn't been time. The plan is working better than I expected considering the fact that we began before everything was fully in place. The evidence has been carefully collected and documented. We have at least 18 Enhanced that have agreed to coordinate with us. Of the consortium's inner circle, only two have defected. That is a much lower attrition rate than I expected. My assistant…well, anyway, she hasn't actually started cooperating with the Council. She just betrayed me personally. I didn't expect that, actually, so that…that was a blow. However, I never allowed her to keep any documents, nor did she know any of the names of the consortium other than me and Alicia Onwuatuegwu."

"Bernice? But she was so devoted to you."

"To me, yes, but apparently not to our cause. Seemingly, she was devastated when she found out that I'm married to Captain America and I didn't trust her enough to tell her. I'm at a loss to explain it, honestly, but she appears to have taken my desire for privacy quite personally. Furthermore, she is the reason that Agent Ross was there to detain you originally instead of the Wakandans. She turned you in, Steve."

"Wow. That's just hard to believe, Mary-Claire. I am so sorry. You must feel so betrayed, darling."

She acknowledged her feelings with only a quick nod and then pushed herself to continue. "Well, at least Alicia was able to finagle things so the Dora Milaje could take charge after all. She just had to sacrifice a big favour that was owed her by the Nigerian government and I offered up a bit of information that I'd been planning to release a little later."

"About Zemo."

"You heard? Yes. We've switched a few things around. We have a new order of operations for everything. I just hope that I can get a little sleep tonight, as Alicia, Atsushi Matsumoto, and I have a meeting with the Secretary General tomorrow. Even though Atsushi will be directing things, since he is a senior delegate and, as such, has the appropriate standing, I will need to be at prime readiness for that."

"I'm sorry, baby. I understand how much you are handling and it is a lot. I want you to know that I believe in you completely."

Steve lifted his hand as far as his restraints would allow him, so Mary-Claire lowered her head so he would be able to reach her cheek. She pressed into his caress and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. "Thank you. I think that when this is all over, I will need to take a leave of absence or something. I don't know how much longer I can bear the secrecy and the conniving. I don't like who I am right now, Steve. I have begun looking at everything and everyone as either an asset or a liability to your cause. I don't want to be that way. And that man that you sent to get me to safety, Steve…why?"

His gaze suddenly shifty, Steve asked uncomfortably, "Did he do something inappropriate?"

"Well…he's not very polite, is he?"

"No, he is not. However, I didn't need polite. I needed someone who would keep his word to me and get you to safety at all costs. Also, I needed someone who would come at a moments' notice and wouldn't be concerned about legality. He owed me a large favour."

Mary-Claire wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "Ok, but I don't even see how a mercenary like him would have met Captain America. You two don't really run in the same circles, so to speak, do you?"

"Erm, no. He met Steve Rogers, not Captain America, darling. That's the difference. I don't like bullies and I hate unfair fights. That's all I'm gonna say about it, ok? Now we are not just even, but I probably owe him. He promised me that you wouldn't get a scratch on you."

"I sure didn't. Physically, he treated me like I was made of glass, but he doesn't know how to control what comes out of his mouth, Steve."

Steve sighed. "I know, I know. But you're safe and that was what I needed. OK? You had to be safe, beautiful."

Mary-Claire looked away from him and asked, "And now?"

"Now you're being watched by the hired muscle that Glenn and Robert arranged, right? They were supposed to choose two guys from the list that I provided."

Surprised, Mary-Claire asked, "Oh, so these are your guys?"

"Not exactly. I just gave Glenn a short list of 9 people that I'd approved. Well…Buck approved them. He knows that stuff much better than I do. And I suggested hiring two, so you would have 24-hour coverage."

"Yeah, I sure do. It would be really nice if they spoke English or French or even Italian, so I could understand them. Hey, Glenn knows some German, so I'd even take that. As it is, we make liberal usage of Google Translate, but it produces some really odd results at times."

Laughing sharply, Steve then asked wryly, "Let me guess: only Russian?"

"Oh no, one of them speaks Ukrainian and Serbo-Croatian, too. Yay. But, you know, I don't. So, Google Translate and hand gestures it is."

"I don't think that Buck considered that, honestly. Sorry, beautiful. As long as you are safe though, I think it is worth it."

Mary-Claire shifted her shoulders and looked at him grumpily. "I guess. However, I look so self-important showing up to meetings with a huge, grim-faced bodyguard beside me. Honestly, it probably hasn't hurt though, as I'm running around trying to wield influence that I don't truly have. I have an important job in some respects, but I'm hardly top-tier UN, am I?"

"You seem to have made enough connexions and impressed a lot of people though, Mary-Claire."

"Maybe, but that isn't the same thing. So, anyway, we did arrange to hold the hearing in the Hague, which took some serious doing. I have four excellent attorneys specifically for Bucky and two others working for you. I have been told that our case for protecting Bucky's actions whilst a POW is evidentially excellent. The laws are so clear that it is surprising that we were able to manoeuvre to get a trial and not just have the charges dropped. It isn't like they don't know there will be a court-martial once we are back in the US. Thank goodness we still have the trial."

Steve groaned as he massaged his injured leg and muttered sourly, "Seems backwards to want a trial and not just get the charges to disappear."

"I know, Steve, but you have to understand how important the publicity is to our cause. Also, I need that time to prepare the final attack against Secretary Ross. That part is our most difficult portion of the plan. The odds of total success there are less than a quarter, probably. Yet, the team working on that feels that we will almost certain be able to get him removed from power and discredited. I hope they aren't being overconfident there. Secretary Ross is not just a chameleon, he's one of those slippery weasels who always land on their feet, Steve. He has so many connexions and, apparently, he holds surprisingly effective blackmail material over the heads of some quite powerful people."

He clenched his fists furiously and growled, "He needs to be imprisoned, Mary-Claire. If he is allowed to live freely, then he'll just find more hidden, underground ways to attack the Enhanced population. Ross is never going to stop."

"I know. The entire consortium all feels the same way. That and the abolishment of the Raft Prison might be two of the few things on which there is universal agreement, actually. However, there is a better than good chance that we won't be able to do more than discredit him publicly."

Steve didn't respond for a moment, then he said with a surly grimace, "I know. I understand."

Mary-Claire watched him for a moment and then finally shoved a thick packet of papers onto his lap. "You need to look this over, Steve."

"I trust you, beautiful. I do. Give me the pen?"

She shook her head and insisted, "Read it? Please?"

Steve tilted his head slightly as he watched her. "What's wrong, Mary-Claire?"

"You are a strategic genius, Steve. You may see something that I missed."

He smiled slightly as he replied, "Unlikely, but ok." He took the stack of papers and began scanning through the contents rapidly. By the time that he got to the seventh page, his body language was nearly screaming frustration and impatience. Yet, when he flipped the page again, he stopped and looked up at Mary-Claire with shock. As he slowly perused the contents of the page, he reached out his hand again, which Mary-Claire touched with her own and squeezed his fingers supportively. Turning the page once more, Steve quickly finished scanning the final four sections of the document and accepted the pen. As he initialled and signed on all the indicated lines, Steve asked, "You sure about this?"

"Definitely. It is the only way."

"Mary-Claire, that is a lot to ask."

"I know, but it is the way it needs to be."

"They won't let it change, no matter how much Buck proves he is not a danger. It will always have to stay this way."

"I know, but I really think that this is the only way that we can expect any hope of acquiescence on the part of the American government."

Steve breathed out slowly and looked over at where Bucky was laid prone, an IV pole beside his hospital cot and two restraints on each limb and one over his forehead. "Ok. I don't think that Buck is going to like it at all."

"But what about you?"

"I don't mind. Nor would he mind if it were just he and I, I think. But to ask that of you and Thea…"

"Oh, well if that is all, then don't worry about it, honey. Thea is already on board."

Astonished, Steve asked in a sharp voice, "She is? Wow. The restrictions on her travel are severe, Mary-Claire. Although, honestly, I don't know why I'm surprised. It seems to me that Thea would do anything in the world for Bucky."

Mary-Claire shrugged and replied firmly, "Oh, I _know_ that she would. She adores him, Steve."

"It worries me how much Buck controls everything in their relationship."

"Not quite everything. Thea is very aware of how much he needs her. As much as she loves him, she believes that he loves her more. She doesn't stand up to him often, from what she herself has said. Yet, when she has, he is too afraid of losing her to tell her no."

Steve looked over at Bucky again and answered sadly, "Oh, there is no doubt that he worships her. He lives and breathes for nothing but her and the children. She is the bedrock of his existence."

"I see. Well, I know that Thea does draw lines that he isn't allowed to cross, Steve, which is good. Unfortunately, those boundaries are just pretty far out. I suppose that we will have to accept their odd dynamic and find a way to deal with it comfortably. They are going to be living right there with us if this agreement is approved."

"Bucky and I were always going to have to hash out how to integrate our families, especially considering his intense relationship with Thea. Regardless of whatever the government determines is necessary for Bucky's repatriation, our futures are intertwined. They always have been. You know that neither of us are going to be willing to live very far apart now that we have found each other again." Steve hesitated and pointed down to the papers in his lap as he added thoughtfully, "Although, I never planned on quite this much proximity."

"I know how you feel about him, Steve. He's closer to you than I was even to Riley, let alone Robert. That's why I conceived of this solution, as it will allow them to surveil just the one house—which will please them—in addition to you and Bucky always being close to each other—which would please you. I devised the arrangement and then allowed the powers-that-be to believe that they came up with it and I was bitterly opposed. Now they believe that they've forced these conditions on us, which seems to be giving quite a few of them a surprising amount of jollies. Some of these people are pretty awful, Steve."

Startled, Steve laughed slightly and commented with wonder, "I will never know how you managed all this, darling."

For the first time, Mary-Claire let her posture droop and her expression show the degree of misery and weariness that she was feeling. "Pure manipulation, Steve. It is easy enough if you know their tells and prejudices. Do you see why I want to take a leave of absence? I need it to clean my mind and soul from all the deception that has been necessary to implement all the various portions of this awful plan. I don't ever want to have to do anything like this again. Not ever. This is not why I went to law school, you know? This is not the way that I wanted to ensure justice and protect the rights of the disenfranchised. This is definitely not how I want to live my life, Steve. I cannot be this kind of person."

Steve stretched out both hands as far as they would reach so he could place the tips of his fingers on her knees, as he whispered, "I wish that I could hold you, darling. You aren't this person at all. You are just playing a role in service to our plan. You are not someone who lies, manipulates, or steals. It isn't you, ok?"

As she watched him, searching his face to judge his sincerity, Mary-Claire clenched her fists at her side and held herself perfectly still. Finally, she sighed and, as she relaxed her posture once again, nearly hiccoughed when she suppressed an enormous sob of relief. "I wouldn't have done half of this stuff before I met you—not even to protect Robert, I think. It's frightening to feel how much I have changed."

His expression fell and Steve turned desperately distraught eyes onto his wife. He insisted miserably, "I let so many people down when I broke with my fellow Avengers and, then again, when I stood beside Bucky. And now—and far worse—I've done this to you. I've brought you so much hardship and pain in the last year. Darling, you shouldn't have to do any of this."

"Yes, I _should_. If not me, then who? I'm your wife, Steve. Quite frankly, the only difference between me and Thea, Steve, is that I must stop at the boundary between legal and criminal. I cannot cross that line, not even for you. However, Thea doesn't see any boundary other than what is best for Bucky or her children."

Clearly devastated, Steve began to object, "But…"

Yet, Mary-Claire interrupted furiously, "No! Don't you dare question how important you are or if you are worth it. You are! And not just to me. I'm helping protect Steve Rogers for me, but I'm working to free Captain America for everyone else."

It was several moments before Steve could speak enough to reply, "As long as I am who you want, then I'll do whatever I have to do to stay with you. You do know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Steve. I know."

"I will do anything that I must do to be sure that you are happy, as well as keeping you and the boys safe. Mary-Claire, I never wanted this for you."

She took the papers back from him and shoved them into her dark green attaché case. She shook her head, but did not look at him as she replied, "It doesn't matter, Steve. Honestly, it is a very good thing that you do have me, or else you and Bucky would be in hiding for the foreseeable future."

"It _does_ matter. Darling, it matters. You worked hard to achieve the career that you had before you met me. Now my choices have derailed that for you. You'd had too much adversity in your life, so I'd hoped to make sure that everything was so perfect for you. I never dreamt that this would be our life."

"No, but you never dreamt that you'd crash a plane and wake up 70 years in the future either. Your life has been a series of outrageously unusual events. And you have no power to make my life perfect. All you can do is love me and stand at my side. I don't regret a moment, you know."

"Neither do I. I don't mean that I regret a thing. I just wish that you hadn't needed to go through all this, darling. I love you so much."

A smile ghosted across her lips briefly, but then she pulled out another document, which she handed to him. "I love you, too. Unfortunately, you will need to sign this one, too. King T'Challa is requiring that you |waive the right to challenge to any extradition request from Wakanda."

Shocked, Steve asked, "Is he? Am I going to be charged with something in Wakanda?"

"No, not at all. Trust me, Steve."

Quickly signing the document and holding it out to her, Steve nodded and replied, "Ok. I always trust you, Mary-Claire. And I think that might I see where you are going with this."

"Good. Regrettably, I really cannot stretch this visit much longer. I am here only as your lead attorney, not as your wife. You are being treated well, aren't you?"

Steve waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, it is fine. I understand why I have to be restrained. I am very concerned about how Buck will react when he awakens though. They aren't going to let him go see Thea."

She reached down and collected the white disk and held it in her left hand as she watched Steve closely. "I know and I can only imagine how poorly that will go down. Yet, I cannot get involved there despite being his lead attorney, too. I'm going to allow King T'Challa to handle that one. I don't have the energy to spare on it right now, Steve. T'Challa says that he will manage everything regarding Bucky's detention and simply let me know as it happens."

"Alright. I think we can trust T'Challa. Thank you for everything you're doing, beautiful. I can never deserve you, you know. You are amazing."

She stood up and smiled up at him once he was standing, too. "I love you, Steve. So, so much. More than anything. I think we are going to be able to pull this off, ok? Just keep your hopes up. There is a lot to go through yet."

"I know. This is definitely the dark before the dawn, isn't it? But as long as you're there waiting for me at the end, I won't mind any of what is coming. It will be worth it, Mary-Claire."

"I will be waiting." She turned off the device and slipped it into her bag. "I need to take all these papers and submit them before this evening, so I have to go. I will be back as soon as there are any developments."

"Thank you. I love you, beautiful."

Mary-Claire smiled at him, but didn't reply, as Agent Ross opened the door and asked sourly, "Finished?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

As Ross closed the door to the cell and turned his back on Steve, he replied with sarcasm, "My pleasure, Mrs Rogers."

* * *

"Mrs Rogers, I am afraid that your conflict of interest makes you quite unsuitable to be a human rights advocate for Enhanced and, to be honest, untrustworthy in the extreme. There will always be a question regarding your ulterior motives behind any assessment or recommendation."

Mary-Claire leant back into her chair with an odd smile on her face. "Is that so, Mr Uziele?"

The man behind the desk looked away from her for a moment—the sneer on his face still quite visible to her despite the glare coming through the window. "Your…relationship…with two of these outlaws, unfortunately, makes you quite clearly biased and causes me to question your intentions. You cannot hope to keep that a secret or expect anyone to believe that these relationships do not affect your work."

Her expression becoming unnaturally blank, Mary-Claire's voice tightened as she replied, "My marriage to Steven Rogers and my friendship with his best friend, James Barnes, is public knowledge at this point, Mr Uziele. In fact, I have two additional private clients that are Enhanced, as the Council is quite well aware. It would be ridiculous for someone to suggest that I am attempting to hide the interest that I have in protecting the Enhanced from any continuing rights violations stemming from the Sokovia Accords. In short, I have every reason to be an excellent advocate for the Enhanced, as I am directly affected by the outcome."

The man flushed with anger. "Hardly, Mrs Rogers, as your actions have demonstrated your untrustworthiness, disingenuity, and secretiveness from the start, Mrs Rogers. You did not inform your employers of your marriage to an Enhanced being. Neither did Mr Rogers inform his colleagues, which helped keep that information from being passed on to your employers. Then, you fled to Geneva when your husband refused to submit to the oversight required by international law. Finally, for quite some time, you were meeting in secret with people intent on overthrowing valid, internationally ratified legislation. In short, Mrs Rogers, you are the last person that I would want to hire for my team, which I will shortly inform my superiors."

After a brief hesitation, Mary-Claire laughed with surprise. "Oh dear, I'm very sorry, but did you think that I came here to interview to work in your department? My goodness, but the situation is nearly the reverse, Mr Uziele. I came here today to approach you about working with me as a _colleague_. As of yesterday afternoon, the Secretary appointed me to take the position of director in the new Department for Human Rights of Enhanced Persons. Although previously it had been my intention to transition to working part-time, so I could spend more time with my children, the Secretary insisted that it was critical that I come on board to work with her towards an equitable, legal solution for the rights of the Enhanced. It is precisely my connexions with numerous Enhanced in multiple UN-signatory countries that the Secretary is hoping to utilise to begin a positive dialogue after the disastrous Sokovia Accords legislation. Of course, I will have to avoid the appearance of a conflict of interest regarding my private clients in the meantime, but the Secretary's attorneys are advising me how to proceed there."

"You…what are you talking about? I am the man in charge of the Department for the Regulation of Enhanced Persons, Mrs Rogers."

Nodding agreeably, Mary-Claire replied, "Yes, of course. Unfortunately, you will no longer have any personnel after this month, since the funding for this department has been cut. Yet, as we transition between the Sokovia Accords to the new legislation once it is approved, I would be happy to re-task several people to you at least part-time. I expect the changeover to take approximately a year, so you cannot possibly be expected to get everything done on your own. For example, when I interviewed her this morning, Miss Gambista seemed very loyal to you, so perhaps you would like to keep her on."

Joel Uziele stood up behind his desk and nearly shouted, "Get out of my office."

"As you like. However, I have to assume that you have not checked your emails recently. You probably will want to do that, as a number of major developments have been occurring that concern you today. I completely understand if you would prefer to finish out the mission of your department as its head, but if you decide that you want to work with me, then I would welcome your addition to my staff in the long-term."

"Team? What team? You are a nobody, Mrs Rogers, a mere staff attorney for the human rights council. It is beyond belief that you would be appointed by the Secretary General herself to head a new department. I have more connexions in my private files than your entire conspiracy group could manage combined, Mrs Rogers. If you think that you can come in here and bluff me, then I don't know what you hope to achieve other than getting yourself fired."

Mary-Claire leant forwards with an intense look of disdain on her face, as she stated sardonically, "I am trying to work with you, Mr Uziele, but you are making this so very hard and it really doesn't need to be. I am sorry that your department is being shut down, however the coming change in legislation is making your enforcement division obsolete. We would be willing to work with you, if you are interested. I am confident that your numerous connexions and contacts would be very beneficial to the department and its mission to support and manage the Enhanced population."

"I would never work with someone like you, Mrs Rogers. You and your colleagues are a disgrace to the UN and your clients are the kind of criminals from whom my department is meant to keep the populace safe. I cannot possibly align myself with terrorists and vigilantes like those you seem eager to defend."

Shrugging her shoulders lightly, Mary-Claire appeared almost bored as she replied, "Well, I am sorry that you do not agree with the consortium's goal to put an end the grave injustices permitted under the Sokovia Accords. However, I must ask you, did the Avengers do something to personally offend you, Mr Uziele?"

His eyes so narrowed that they were nearly closed, the man snarled, "The Avengers? Your little friends all abandoned the Avengers when they went outside the law. The organisation is no longer a private one, but is now kept on a short leash as regulated by international law."

"No, I am afraid that is not quite correct, Mr Uziele. The founding contract for the Avengers required the majority agreement of all active Avengers for the reorganisation or disbanding of the group. There is not any relevant international law that could forcibly restructure the governance of a private, American corporation under the control of the United Nations. In making this particular requirement of the Avengers and similar groups, the Accords were fundamentally unconstitutional under laws of both the United States and the United Nations."

The man retorted, "The law also required your _husband_ to submit to international regulation of his violent incursions, which he has not done, in effect becoming a terrorist, Mrs Rogers."

Mary-Claire casually swept her very long hair over one shoulder, as she said blandly, "Honestly, what an interesting interpretation of the situation you have, Mr Uziele."

"And Tony Stark is the owner of the Avengers and he signed the Accords."

"In fact, Mr Stark is the majority investor in the Avengers Corporation; however, governance of the Avengers Group is contractually limited only to any active full-time members."

"In fact, Mrs Rogers, I believe that it is you, who does not understand. Tony Stark publicly submitted to the leadership of the United Nations Enhanced Enforcement Directive."

Mary Claire smiled dangerously. "Yes, he did. Apparently, Mr Stark felt that was the correct choice for him, at that time, which is his right. I am certain that his own attorneys have instructed him according to his best interests, as I am advising my own clients of theirs. Yet, Mr Stark does not, nor did he at the time of his signature of the Sokovia Accords, represent the Avengers Corporation."

"I believe you will find that Stark had the authority to restructure the Avengers so as to comply with international law, Mrs Rogers."

"In fact, at the time of the ratification of the Sokovia Accords, Captain Rogers was the head of the Avengers Group, which is the membership body of the Avengers Corporation. Mr Vision is not nor has he ever been an Avenger. Colonel Rhodes was contracted with them through the US Air Force, but was not legally a member. Spiderman turned down the offer of membership, in fact. Dr Banner has consistently refused interest in full-time membership. Therefore, Mr Stark is the only Avenger who actually signed the Accords that has not since repudiated it. As I am sure you are aware, my client Natalia Romanova did formally rescind her participation in the Sokovia Accords. Clinton Barton and Wanda Maximoff, in addition to my clients Samuel Wilson and Captain Rogers, never signed. Therefore, of the six Avengers who were active and full-time at the moment that the Accords were ratified, four refused to sign and five are currently in agreement that they are unwilling to participate in the Accords."

"Very well, Mrs Rogers, I can see the direction that your plan of defence for your husband is going to take. Nevertheless, if, as you claim, the Avengers are a corporation that is not currently under UN supervision, then it is outside the law. Your husband is an internationally wanted criminal, Mrs Rogers."

"What an unusual interpretation you have of events, Mr Uziele."

"His terroristic actions since he refused to sign the Accords are public knowledge."

Mary-Claire sighed pointedly and pulled a paper folder out of her attaché case. "I think not. In any case, Mr Uziele, I came here today to speak with you as a colleague. Out of courtesy, in fact. It is unfortunate that our conversation has devolved into slander and threats against my husband. I believe that the Secretary was quite correct about your bias and lack of fitness to be appointed to the council. I admit that I did not previously understand how narrow your views are."

"Council? What council?"

As she slid the folder across his desk, Mary-Claire replied coolly, "Oh, my goodness, did I say that? That was a mistake; I apologise. In any case, you are about to be busy enough that it would be unfair to ask more of you. That was the chief reason that I came today to speak with you, in fact. As of approximately two hours ago, three lawsuits were filed simultaneously on behalf of the Avengers Corporation; six individual suits were filed on behalf of each of its four non-signatory active members, Ms Natalia Romanova, and Mr Scott Lang; two were filed on behalf of Master Sergeant James Barnes; and one was filed collectively on behalf of the three members of the Avengers illegally detained and held at the Raft Prison under conditions that violate international law. There will be a further four lawsuits filed in the state of New York where the Avengers are incorporated, but, of course, these will not affect your department, Mr Uziele. I thought it might help you to have copies, so you can peruse them all after you have checked with your superiors."

The man stood up from his chair and stared down at Mary-Claire with a look of intense hatred on his face. "I suggest, Mrs Rogers, that you leave my office now whilst you still can. It is still well within my mandate to detain and question you regarding the activities of your husband and his colleagues."

All pretence immediately dropped from her posture, as Mary-Claire relaxed back into her chair and smiled unpleasantly. "Oh, please do, Mr Uziele. I would adore the chance to unexpectedly gain such excellent publicity for my case. I encourage you to strike out blindly in service of your vendetta."

"I have no vendetta, Mrs Rogers. I simply despise people like your supposed clients who feel that the laws do not pertain to them. I dislike even more those like yourself who defend them and excuse the collateral damage as necessary. For a prime example, there is no reason that anyone needed to die in the Battle of New York. If the Avengers had been held accountable for their mistakes there, then the incidents in Sokovia or Lagos would never had occurred."

Her expression deceptively perplexed, Mary-Claire relaxed into the comfortableness of the easy argument as she commented, "As you must be aware, the Avengers did not start that battle, Mr Uziele. They simply defended the city with merely the _six_ of them there to stop an entire alien army from destroying New York. They were fighting with very little support, unfortunately, as the police were woefully underprepared and outgunned and the national guard was hours out from mobilising."

"They had no business engaging with those forces. If they had left the battle to those better suited for something similar, then those that died might still be alive now."

"Mr Uziele, you already know the ridiculousness of that statement." Mary-Claire smiled gently, as she tightened her voice and explained as if to a child, "The Chitauri were aggressors bent on commandeering the entire planet. Fortunately for all of us, the Avengers stopped them before the Chitauri were able to gain a foothold. If the Avengers had not closed the portal and sent the nuclear weapon through it into space, then New York City and _all_ of the people in it would have been killed by that bomb long before outside forces could have arrived. No one would have survived."

Mr Uziele stood glaring at her with fury and hatred. "And why was that bomb sent? Why did the World Security Council feel they needed to neutralise an entire city?"

"Because, Mr Uziele, the World Security Council did not believe that six superheroes were sufficient to stop an alien army. Despite the horrifying implications of deploying such a weapon, one can see why they might have felt desperate enough to feel it was necessary. The Chitauri were a terrifying enemy and certainly no other six people on the planet would have managed to defeat them so quickly. Thankfully, the World Security Council was mistaken and Mr Stark was able to divert the weapon away from the population towards the Chitauri themselves. I ask you to consider carefully, however, what would have happened if the Avengers had not been there to stop the bomb from destroying the city?"

"The Avengers are the entire reason that New York City was attacked!"

Mary-Claire snapped her attaché case closed and stood up as she directed a pitying shake of her head at him. "I can see that you must have lost someone dear to you and I am so very sorry for your terrible loss. It is devastating to lose your loved one senselessly in war. Yet, you have allowed your grief to overwhelm your logic. It would make little sense for the Chitauri to choose to attack New York if they actually knew the Avengers would be there to defend it. Their best chance for a foothold was to select a large and wealthy, but poorly defended city."

"What do you know about loss, Mrs Rogers? What do you know about war? Your husband is a superhero, not a civilian left to cower in fear. My sister was just a tourist visiting your country. She wasn't supposed to die."

The clench of her fingers around the handle of her attaché case went unnoticed by the man. Yet, Mary-Claire recognised her accidental telegraphing of her satisfaction at having finally achieved the information she had sought and immediately forced herself to relax her posture. "No, she wasn't and there is no making that right. I am very sorry. The people who defend us cannot always stop the aggressors from perpetrating violence upon civilians, no matter how desperately they want to."

Now standing far too close to her with his face twisted by hate and grief, Joel Uziele said only, "Get out."

"Very well. If you change your viewpoint and decide that you want to work with us, then I would be happy to speak with you again about it."

"Out of my office!"

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrow at him, but said only, "Good evening, Mr Uziele."

As soon as she turned the corner in the corridor outside, a tall, elegantly dressed woman was waiting for her with a large folder of papers. "Were you successful?"

Mary-Claire accepted the folder, which she immediately slipped into her case as she replied, "Brasenose was right: it was his sister. Uziele has convinced himself that the Avengers fighting back against the Chitauri caused all the destruction and casualties, instead of the other way around. He must have somehow suppressed his biological information, but Atsushi Matsumoto's people should be able to find her name. I think we will be able to date his participation in Ross' scheme from that time or shortly thereafter. I am sorry for him, Floriana, but his actions have been unforgivable."

As Mary-Claire expertly slid a data stick into the woman's pocket so no one who was not looking for it would have noticed, Floriana Defurio replied sharply, "I'm not remotely sorry for the bastard. Should we forward the evidence now?"

"I do not know. I want to check with Alicia before I decide. For now, we will send the video to Stark and see what he thinks."

Floriana frowned. "I do not like cooperating with Anthony Stark. He is too guided by his emotions and too easily swayed by persons playing on his guilt."

"I know, but we will be working closely with Tony Stark in the future, Floriana. It is critical to our effort's success and, on a more personal note, it is of the utmost importance to my husband. We really have no other choice."

Whilst they stepped into the lift, Floriana's voice lowered slightly as she commented unhappily, "Perhaps so, but I'm not completely convinced, Mary-Claire."

Surreptitiously clicking the volume button on the side of an ostensibly normal Stark phone, Mary-Claire then put the phone in her pocket and replied, "Well, if you do not agree with me, perhaps you will be swayed by Justice Djordjevic. She has already approved Stark as a consultant for all tech."

Clearly flabbergasted, the woman asked incredulously, "Djordjevic? We have Justice Djorjevic on our side? That's incredible. She is one of the strictest judges on the bench. She would never support undermining and conspiring against the law."

"Atsushi has done an incredible job of using his people to datamine on our behalf, Floriana. At least four of our core consortium members were approached because of information he found regarding their close relationship with people directly saved by the Avengers. In Justice Djorjevic's case, she has a granddaughter who is a student at Columbia. The judge has decided that the Sokovia Accords are unconstitutional and, quite frankly, bad law."

As the lift doors opened, Floriana's voice dropped to a whisper. "I will have to remember to give Matsumoto my thanks next time that I see him. Justice Djorjevic is quite a score. Ok, I concede on Stark. Are you ok?"

Mary-Claire nodded and forced a smile on her face as she replied, "Oh, yes. I just need to run to the toilet quickly and then get something decent to eat. I haven't had a bite since breakfast."

"I will ring for the car then?"

"That's fine. I will just meet you out front in a few minutes. I shan't be long."

Yet, as soon as she closed the door of the lavatory behind her, Mary-Claire immediately began heaving and shivering miserably. She sank down onto the chair at the tiny vanity table next to the sink and began desperately searching in her handbag. Finally, she found her pill case and took out a small tablet of diazepam, which she quickly dry swallowed. When she looked up and saw herself in the mirror, she slumped back into the chairback behind her. She mumbled exhaustedly, "I honestly look like a wraith." With one shaking hand, Mary-Claire attempted to smooth her hair back into its usual perfectly curled style, but her anxiety was so great that the waves of nausea were severe, making it hard to focus on anything else. She gave up and closed her eyes, gripping her handbag tightly as she tried to work through a grounding exercise. Dr Gampeghi had been quite correct that she was pushing herself far beyond safe levels. If she were not careful, she would have an episode that would require hospitalisation again. She just didn't have time for that now. She had to push through. For Steve. Always, always for him.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

He had been dreading the conversation that he would need to have with Thea whenever she awoke. Steve knew that she was going to ask about Bucky and he truly didn't want to have that conversation. Honestly, he had never before seen his friend that out of control—not even when Bucky had seen the torture chamber at the location where Thea had been held. Even Steve could not pretend to T'Challa—during the too brief conversation that they had been able to have without surveillance—that Bucky had not temporarily lost his hold on sanity when he'd been refused the ability to see his wife or children.

Steve had been relieved that the Wakandans had seemed understanding, but he was still very unsure of how well Bucky might be able to pull himself back from the brink even with the help of the Wakandan medications he had been given. Finally, T'Challa himself had promised that Steve could have an hour-long visit with Thea and report back to Bucky once she was awake and healthy enough. This had been enough to convince Bucky to comply with the restraints and even then, only once he'd been sedated.

It spoke volumes to Steve of Bucky's trust in T'Challa that he took T'Challa's word at face-value. Bucky's faith in Steve, however, reassured him that the Winter Soldier was now taking a backseat again to Bucky. That was an immense relief, as Steve had been quite frightened by Bucky's dissociation after their surrender to the authorities. The incredible degree of damage he recognised in his friend's mind was far more than Steve was going to ever admit to anyone but himself. There was even a very tiny part of himself that had briefly wondered if Bucky was safe enough to be around the children. Despite what he had pretended when prodded by Natasha or Sam, Steve had known for months that he was in pretty poor psychological condition himself. Yet, he could not ignore any longer that both he and Bucky needed serious psychiatric intervention once they got to the other side of this ordeal. If…if they even did, that is.

He looked over at where Thea was sleeping, her beautiful face still bruised and swollen and her limbs wrapped so the wounds that had been visible when they had rescued her were hidden. He was grateful. He didn't know how he was going to report back to Bucky and say that she was ok if he'd had to look at those gashes and burn marks openly.

Apparently, Thea and Mary-Claire had discussed the arrangements that were being proposed for he and Bucky if they were permitted to live freely in the United States again. He had to assume that Mary-Claire had talked it over with Thea before Thea's brothers had come and the subsequent catastrophe occurred. If Bucky's wife were willing to give up nearly everything to obtain the US government's permission for her and her children to live with Bucky, then perhaps there was a chance that things might work out. If she couldn't handle what had happened to her—he imagined very few people would be able to do so—then all hope for Bucky was lost. Steve didn't want to consider how he himself would survive losing his best friend again.

"Did Natalia take Jamie with her?"

He had completely missed that she had awakened. Steve looked up sharply and quickly replied, "Yeah, Natasha and Sam are only on monitored house arrest, so they can move around more freely. Buck and I are a different story. How are you feeling, Thea?"

She looked over at him with a slight grimace. "Horrid. But so grateful. Thank you, Steve. I really thought that my babies were going to die there in that awful place. Natalia said that Winnie is in a paediatric unit? Is she truly well?"

That…oh boy. That was not a pretty story, but at least he didn't really need to lie to her. "Actually, they brought her home this morning, but she has her own nurse here. I am sure they can bring her to you later when she is awake."

"There really won't be any lasting health concerns? Is she like Jamie?"

He wasn't surprised that she had asked. Bucky's children had clearly at least partly inherited an Enhanced healing capability. Steve looked sympathetically at her and replied seriously, "It seems like she is. The first MRI of her head was devastating, which was why the physician who first treated her said there was less than a 10% chance. Not even 24 hours later, he adjusted that to a 60% chance after her second MRI, which was nearly perfect. The hospital was far too excited about her unusual recovery, so we've had to implement a variety of distractions. Mary-Claire told the neurologist that she had been doing novenas to St Philomena, which is quite true by the way. Some of them may accept that and just think of us as some of those weird super-religious Catholics. T'Challa has purposefully been very dismissive of any discussion that Winnie's healing ability was due to anything other than having been born in Wakanda. Naturally, Secretary Ross has been there, and he's much too interested. That is when Stark decided he wanted to take a turn, so somehow the initial information in the system has been changed. Her initial MRI now looks quite different with an apparent glitch having switched her MRI for that of a baby that died the week before."

Steve slumped back in his chair in surprise as Thea struggled to sit up as she exclaimed with primal fury, "Ross was near my baby?! Did he touch her? Tell me that he did not put even one finger on my child, Steve."

Steve reached out and put a hand on her arm as he reassured her soothingly, "He did not touch her, Thea. I swear it. T'Challa knows about Ross, so he made certain he was there when Secretary Ross visited the hospital. Bucky asked the same question and T'Challa assured him that Ross was not even allowed into the ward to see Winnie."

He could see that she was trying to calm herself as she quietly cried. Therefore, he waited quietly and wondered what the right thing to say or do was. He didn't know her well enough yet. However, honestly, he didn't think that he was ever going to be good at these kinds of situations.

Finally, Thea had gained control of her feelings sufficiently to say, "I'm sorry. Would you pass me a tissue, please?"

Steve gently pressed a tissue into her hand and tried to think of what to say. What would he have wanted to hear when his boys were so ill? "I _have_ seen Winnie today and she is healthy. No marks or scars. She is breathing normally and, apparently, she is eating extremely well for a girl her age. The nurse told me that she is responding to stimuli perfectly normally, too. She is going to be absolutely fine, Thea."

Although she was calmer, Steve did not think that she was as reassured as she pretended. "Right. Ok. Thank you."

He smiled at her apologetically. He knew that she should be allowed to see her daughter, but it was outside of his control. It had taken T'Challa's intervention for Jamie to be allowed to visit her earlier. "Of course."

There was a long pause as Thea watched Steve for a while, obviously trying to decide how much it was safe to tell him. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "You know, Winnie was not assured of having inherited Yasha's regenerating abilities, Steve. It did not seem as if Jamie had before he got ill either. Yet, I asked St Philomena the Wonder-Worker to pray for Jamie when he had the acanthamoeba infection. According to Yasha, HYDRA had done quite a range of research, which determined that there was no way for any Enhanced properties to be passed on genetically, but I hoped that perhaps G-d might allow it and work a miracle. Mary-Claire knows about that, which is probably why she chose a novena to St Philomena, too. She told me that your children did not seem to have any of your healing ability at birth, which was why you had to do the transfusion when they were born so premature, and that there are apparent no residual abilities beyond their size and superb health. So, perhaps the scientists are right about inheritability and both my children were saved through St Philomena's intercession."

Steve nodded gravely and then sat down again. It seemed that, in this at least, Bruce's research had been as ahead of HYDRA as it was ahead of SHIELD. It was probably better for now if Thea remained ignorant of what Bruce had found out. "That might be true, Thea; I don't know. Mary-Claire certainly believes so. Yet, we need to be very careful about this. If Enhanced persons can pass on their abilities genetically, that puts us and our families at much greater risk. We need to play down the whole thing if possible. Anyway, you can feel safe about Winnie. She really is doing well."

"Thank you, Steve. I will never forget that you saved her and Jamie. A few hours later, then Winnie would not have made it. And you carried them both through gunfire behind your shield, which meant you couldn't move it to defend yourself or throw it to stop any attackers."

"Thea, I would have done anything to save either of the children. Anything."

"I know. I just want you to know that although you are Yasha's best friend, his brother, that I hope you will allow me to consider you family now, too."

His guilt overwhelming him, Steve's unusually grey complexion reddened somewhat and he watched her miserably for a moment. "Thank you. I would be honoured if you felt that way. However, it was partly my fault that this happened, Thea. I believed that I had a better level of protection on my family than I actually did. We thought that we had put sufficient safeguards into place to keep my wife and children safe and that these would be enough that you could visit with little risk, too. We were wrong and that error nearly cost you and the children your lives."

Thea smiled at him kindly despite the abject misery that was evident in her eyes. "No, Steve, the choice to come despite Yasha's objections was mine alone. He correctly assessed the danger. I thought he was being jealous. Well, he was, but that was not his main motivation. Yasha is able to dispassionately analyse a situation even when his emotions are very unstable—he just temporarily puts all that aside somehow to make his assessment. Unfortunately, I could not completely remove sentiment, so I ignored the niggles of concern that contacting my brothers might alert the wrong people. My mistake, not Yasha's and definitely not yours, endangered my family and then everyone who had to come and rescue us. I have to live with that decision and I think it will always haunt me. You saved us, despite the risk to yourself. I am sure you wanted to protect your own family, but instead you came to rescue mine."

Getting up from the chair with a jolt, Steve stood very stiffly beside her bed. His fists so tightly fisted at his side that his fingers were white, he took a few moments to calm his breathing. It was imperative that Thea understand how it was with him and Bucky. Finally, he replied, "Of course, I came after you. Bucky's family is mine, too. He would have died in the attempt to get you, Thea. As it was, he and I barely made it out even with the Wakandans on the outer perimeter, Sam and Natasha working the edge of the inside, and Stark flying around causing his usual chaos. With only the Wakandans and Bucky, none of you would have gotten out. I will not lose Bucky again, so I'll do whatever it takes. That is just how it will always be with me. I don't know why she is so understanding and forgiving of that, but Mary-Claire knows and seems to understand our bond somehow."

After she shifted slightly in the hospital bed and attempted to make herself less uncomfortable, Thea looked up at Steve and replied very seriously, "Steve. Do you think that anything else in the world but seeing you could have saved Bucky from his programming? Nothing else that happened all those years managed to do that. Yet, after decades as the Winter Soldier, simply interacting with you was enough. Do you understand how little he remembered about himself then? He only knew _you_ , but nothing else. When he left on this rescue mission, do you think he wasn't ready to die to protect you if necessary—even if that meant leaving me a widow and the babies orphaned? He would never admit it even if I were to ask him, but I am very sure he knew it was very likely to come to that. If the people Yasha loves are not safe, then he isn't either. It is ok to want to protect your brother after having lost him once before. Your friendship and brotherhood came long before you and he had families."

Steve huffed out an embarrassed, yet relieved breath. "Yeah. Yeah. That sounds like Buck. When we formed the Howling Commandos, he'd just been captured and experimented on and was suffering, but he never said a word. He simply followed me around Europe, bossing around the other Howlies who saw I was a complete greenhorn, and always making sure that I was safe. Always that _I_ was safe no matter what that meant for _him_ —a few times even sneaking his rations into my bag until I caught him at it."

Thea reached out her hand and waited until Steve lightly took it. "Steve, that is how he is. That is how Yasha…Bucky…demonstrates love. He needs to protect what is important to him and destroy anything that threatens it. That once meant beating up jerks who were fighting you in an alley. Or laying on the floor next to your bed when you were sick, so your mother could go to work. Then it meant working extra hard in sniper school, since they told him he could better protect his fellow soldiers that way. Then it meant making sure the other soldiers followed your lead and worked together, so you could do what you did best: make the right plan and then jump into the breech. And, of course, it always meant making certain you didn't die. That is Bucky to you and Yasha to me, but it is who he is at his core."

He had never expected that there would be someone else who understood Bucky the way he did. Even when they were young men in Brooklyn, the girls seemed to only notice Bucky's confidence and looks more than his quiet, intense personality. But now Steve heard Thea talking about Bucky in just the way that he knew Bucky deserved. The relief he felt in realising that Bucky's wife loved him far more than Bucky knew caused Steve's body to relax. Buck had always been the better man of the two of them. Steve muttered with embarrassment, "I don't deserve that loyalty and devotion. Never did. Buck has always been the one who was special." He stepped away and leant against the wall of the small room. "Never understood why he wasted his time being friends with a dumb punk like me, but I loved him for it. His mother once told me that she knew the moment that she first saw us together that our lives would be intertwined. She had no clue how right she was."

"No, no one could have predicted your futures. One of the few things that used to be able to change things around when he was having a bad day—before the babies were born, I mean—was talking about the two of you as kids. He liked talking about the silly things you two did or trouble that you two caused. Those were some of the only times I ever heard him laugh. He still cannot remember his maternal grandmother's name—the fact of which he agonises over still because he remembers how much she loved him—but he could tell me every detail about the first time you two went to Ebin's Field, was it?"

Steve gasped and he felt his stomach lurch as he remembered that day. So long ago that he and Bucky might actually be the only two people still alive who were there. "Ebbets, oh yeah, that was an amazing day. July 2nd, 1938. He bought the tickets for my birthday and I was a real jerk about that. Felt he should use all that money on himself or something. I didn't get it then, you know, but I do now. We had a great day even though the Dodgers ended up losing to the Giants. Freddie Fitzsimmons pitched. He remembers that?"

Thea nodded. "He remembers quite a lot about those days if it has to do with you. The other details are less present."

He shrugged. "Well, most of our childhood was spent at each other's side, so that isn't so odd really. His grandmother was Aibhlinn, but she was usually called Evie. Maybe you can guide him to remember it."

"Thank you. He needs to remember on his own, but perhaps I can direct him with the right questions now that I know. It would hurt him to know that you feel guilty about how he always protects you, Steve. He would feel like you didn't trust him and that you were rejecting his friendship."

"S***!" Immediately, Steve flushed with embarrassment, as he stammered, "Sorry. Sorry, I wasn't thinkin'."

With a twinkle in her eye, Thea shook her head and replied seriously, "I am married to James Barnes, Steve. I hear that word and worse from him a dozen times in a day."

That made Steve smile reminiscently at the memory of Mrs Barnes waving the porridge spurdle threateningly at them after hearing them testing out words they'd heard some older boys use. And Mrs Barnes had definitely told his mother, who had been so disappointed that she'd cried. He had felt guilty for weeks over that, actually.

Steve frowned as he remembered how incredibly gentle his mother had been and how unfairly the world had treated such a tender-hearted, kind soul. Even still, her love buoyed Steve through his toughest times—as she had promised from her deathbed that it would—even pushing him to get back up and try again whenever he felt as if he couldn't fall any further or fail any worse.

Mother had encouraged him to trust in his brotherhood with Bucky, too. She had firmly insisted that Bucky actually looked up to _him_ , which Steve had found patently ridiculous at the time. He'd known that he was unlikely to make it past 30, so he wasn't going to make firm plans beyond art school. However, Steve had been confident that Bucky would make something great out of his life. But Mother had known Bucky nearly as well as she'd known Steve—and she understood Steve far better than he had himself. Their futures were just as intertwined as their boyhoods had been.

Steve cleared his throat and uncomfortably replied to Thea, "I just meant, well, I don't want him to think I could ever reject him—no matter what happens. I trust Bucky, although before his programming was deactivated, I knew I couldn't trust the Winter Soldier. That wasn't him though."

"Not then. He isn't really just your old Bucky either though, Steve. He's become part Bucky, part Winter Solider, and part someone new. I'm sure Steve Rogers is not the same guy who went into the ice."

Surprised, Steve laughed bitterly. Bucky's wife really was something. It no longer surprised him in the slightest that, although barely free of HYDRA's mental skulduggery, Bucky had been instantly willing to give it all up to keep Thea safe even if she couldn't ever care for him. No one but Bucky would do something like that and even Bucky must have been overwhelmingly in love to make such a choice. Yet, every part of the James Barnes that Steve had known would have fallen hard and fast for someone like Thea: petite, auburn-haired, unusually beautiful, caring, sophisticated, elegant, intelligent, and perceptive. She was everything that Bucky had always wanted.

Steve sighed. "No one but you, Mary-Claire, Sam, and Buck seem to get that. The rest of the world seems to think that I'm actually a cardboard hero, Captain America, with corresponding stereotypical, outdated views and desires. I don't know who they think all the guys fighting in the war were, but we were just kids like the soldiers are now. We did stupid things, got drunk, played cards, complained about our commanders, talked about girls, dreamt about girls, tried to find girls, and did whatever we could to find normalcy in the midst of h*ll."

"I believe that." Thea paused and watched Steve for a few moments. Then, all at once like she needed to get it over quickly, she rapidly began explaining, "My grandfather and father were officers in the Royal Navy, as is my brother Thomas. My brother Christopher, however, chose the Army. He used to write me emails as often as he had access to a computer. They were silly emails, angry emails, emails where he clearly had drunk a few too many, loving emails about his fiancée before she broke it off, miserable ones after she did, emails about how he felt after some of the horrid things he saw, and, finally, a letter explaining why he did what he did. War is awful and rough and no one who goes comes back the same. If they are lucky enough to come back at all. It doesn't matter which war, Steve."

Steve looked at her with sympathetic understanding. He had known two men who had chosen suicide over having to keep fighting during the war. One had simply taken off his helmet and stood up during the middle of a firefight. The other—only hours after a doctor had declared him ready to return to combat from a shoulder wound—had done the same as Thea's brother. Both had been good men, who had simply lost their way in the midst of the nightmare of the war. "No, it doesn't. I am sorry about your brother, Thea. They say it gets easier with time and maybe they are right. Mary-Claire seems to feel that she has _some_ hope of healing now that it's been four years since Riley died. Perhaps I just haven't been awake long enough to get to that point. I really hope that you do."

Thea shook her head and looked away from him. "It is hard to imagine it, but I suppose anything is possible. I know you lost more, since your whole world is gone, but please don't think that you have to pretend to the people you trust that you are alright."

He flushed slightly as he thought back to that day only a few weeks before he'd first seen Mary-Claire—the day in which he had truly given up only to find that that exit route was blocked from him, too. His despair upon waking up cold and wet along the river bank had been the subject of dozens and dozens of nightmares over the last two years. Yet, he deserved that for what he had done. He had little pity for himself after all. "Yeah, there have been times when I handled it remarkably poorly. I am doing better now though. Knowing Bucky was alive was the start of finding a purpose again. Then falling in love with Mary-Claire gave me an actual reason to _want_ to live. However, I do have to keep the façade up, Thea. Captain America is something bigger than me and it is a responsibility that I was given. I laid that mantle down when I felt that I had lost the right to wear it. But Stark has asked me to carry on, so I will do it again. That means that I got to live up to the ideal."

Thea gasped. "That isn't right, Steve. You are a man, not a myth."

Steve frowned and replied dourly, "Buck and I are physically 70 years younger than the guys born when we were. We can't be a part of the current generation of people our physical age. Not sure where Bucky or I fit in—he is the only other person on Earth who shares the same predicament. For me, the expectations laid on me shift depending on who I'm talking to. Anyway, the younger people now just see World War II vets as nice, elderly men, most of whom married and have grandchildren. Those same guys would have whistled at Rita Hayworth during a USO show, got drunk on every leave pass, and bet on cards like half the other soldiers I knew."

"That doesn't sound like you though."

He grimaced and said uncomfortably, "No, that wasn't my thing, but when I wasn't in uniform, I could blister the paint of the side of a barn with my language whenever Buck and I were together. We were not saints. Buck loved cards, but he was very straight and narrow otherwise. He was strict with the other guys about getting drunk or if he saw any soldier catcalling a girl."

"That sounds like Yasha. He has a desperately serious nature even though he has such a wonderful sense of humour."

Surprised and pleased by her understanding, Steve smiled. "He does. No one has ever made me laugh like Bucky."

"I've been awfully patient about asking, Steve, but I need to know. When will I get to see him?"

He knew that she'd ask eventually, but he had hoped that he would be able to hold her off longer. She wasn't going to like the answer. "Huh. Well…you see, that is under negotiation still as we speak. He is awake and under very heavy restraint. We were visited by a UN delegation just this morning and, now that he is healed, they insisted on restraints that are electronically monitored by their people. They weren't happy about me being allowed to remain in a cell unrestrained, but they had no paperwork to force the issue like they did with Buck. I only came down here ten minutes before you awoke. They're giving me an hour with you. That was Bucky's condition for not breaking the restraints, which, frankly, I think he could still easily do in the state he's in. I would estimate he is still more Winter Soldier than your Yasha at the moment."

Thea watched Steve for a moment and then asked uneasily, "Oh, so you realised that?"

"That I was fighting alongside the Winter Soldier to rescue you? Definitely. I know Bucky and I've met the Winter Soldier."

Thea closed her eyes for a moment and then breathed in and out slowly. When she finally did speak, her tone was steely and sharp. "I need to see him, Steve. I need to see my daughter and I need to see my husband. I'd like Jamie with me, too, but I've been able to hold him and see that he really is ok. I have to see Yasha even if that means you take me down there and I talk to him in whatever restraints he is in. I don't care. If one of you do not bring him to me or take me down there, then you will need to sedate _me_ because I will get out of the bed, tear all these tubes out, and crawl down there."

Once again, Steve was impressed by the sheer depth of Thea's feelings for his friend. He knew very well how wild Bucky's love for his wife was, but Steve was deeply relieved that her own attachment to Bucky was quite intense. Thea would need that in the weeks and months to come, as she waited through the trial and court-martial and endured the inevitable press reaction. "I think we will figure something out and soon, Thea."

"Very soon, Steve. Please."

* * *

Steve's head snapped up as he heard the voices outside their holding cell. He looked over at Bucky and said roughly, "Buck." When Bucky glanced at him, Steve added, "Remember, she's ok."

Bucky's eyes darted back to the door, as it opened and a tall, elegant nurse pushed Thea's wheelchair into the room.

Immediately, the woman pushing Thea's chair demanded, "Nkosana! What is the meaning of this outrage? Why is Ingcuka being held thus? The king himself ordered mercy and respect."

With a nasty smirk, the stocky guard gripped his baton and ran his eyes over Bucky, who was muzzled and completely immobilised with restraints running from his head to his ankles. He then watched Steve's reaction, as he said loudly, "The UN man told me that I should restrain the Winter Soldier like the animal he truly is. That is just what I am doing, Thandiwe."

The nurse made a sound of fury and hissed at him, "You are a fool, Nkosana. Your loyalty is to our king, not the UN." She then looked down at Thea, who was desperately sobbing as she stared at Bucky. The nurse's pity was clearly sincere, as she quietly asked, "Mrs Barnes, ma'am, will you be quite alright if I leave you here?"

Thea seemed unable to shift her eyes from watching Bucky as she responded in a distant voice, "Yes, thank you, Thandiwe. I am perfectly alright. Will I be allowed the full hour still?"

"Of course, ma'am."

Steve watched Thea carefully as she attempted to smile at Bucky. He could see that her anxiety was barely contained. Thea seemed to be nearly at the end of her tether as she began to slowly speak what (to him) seemed to be a memorised line. "Я привел нашу дочь, чтобы ты могли видеть, что она сейчас здорова." Although Steve did not know what had been said, he saw Bucky's fists tighten further as Thea lifted their baby up for Bucky to see. Something felt off, but he didn't know just what it was.

The guard immediately demanded, "Hey! You must speak so I can understand."

Despite not knowing what had been said, Steve snarled, "She is just showing their baby to her husband, you creep."

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, the guard retorted, "How do I know that she isn't planning something?"

Quite sure that Thea was definitely planning something and that both Mary-Claire and Natasha were likely also involved, Steve tried to play what he assumed was his allotted part. He waved his hand at Thea's wheelchair and said sarcastically, "Perhaps the fact that she is holding her child and sitting in a wheelchair with an IV pole beside her would clue you in, huh, buster?"

"You don't get to talk to me like that. You're a fugitive and a criminal now, not the almighty Captain America anymore."

Her eyes watching Steve carefully—he could tell that she was hoping he would understand what was happening—Thea replied very quietly to the guard, "Please. I am just talking to my husband. He is more comfortable conversing in Russian. Why may I not speak to him how he will understand me best? Wouldn't your wife speak to you in Xhosa, sir?"

"My wife would not have to speak to me in a gaol cell."

"I am sure you are right, but my husband is in a cell and I want to talk to him. Please allow us some privacy and the ability to speak in his most comfortable language."

"I thought he was supposed to be an American, huh?"

Steve felt that her voice was suspiciously calm, as Thea answered, "Of course, but he was a prisoner under Soviet control for decades."

"Hmph. Very well, but no reaching into the cell and you must speak slowly. Everything is being recorded."

Thea sighed. "I do not mind. We are only talking of our daughter."

Steve could see that Thea was intently fixated on Bucky, as she began to speak to him in Russian. He had the feeling that whatever she was saying, it was something that had been thoroughly vetted by Natasha. Steve also realised that—despite the tears rolling down Bucky's cheek as he watched Thea—Bucky was still more Winter Soldier than James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky's eyes were resolutely focussed on Thea's face, as he analysed her words—his expression the blank, cold stare of the Winter Soldier, but his body language still that of Steve's lifelong friend. Steve could tell the depth of Bucky's terror from the way that he was holding his shoulders and his intense focus by the tilt of his chin. Whatever Thea was saying, Bucky was incredibly concerned. And scared. Which made no sense, as they wouldn't be openly talking of anything dangerous, since the room was monitored.

At that moment, the door to the detention room was flung open and two men burst into the room. The first man began berating the guard in Xhosa whilst the second, a Wakandan Security Forces captain, stalked towards Bucky's cell and opened the door. As he began talking, the man pressed a button on a device on his wrist and the restraints were loosened enough that Bucky was able to shift his posture slightly.

Captain Qukubana addressed Thea, but his eyes were on Bucky, as he said, "I must apologise wholeheartedly on behalf of Wakanda, Mrs Barnes. Your husband is not supposed to be kept under these conditions." The man made another tap on the device and Bucky's muzzle dropped off. "I understand that our guard took his instruction from someone with the UN delegation, but that carries no weight here. Regardless of the UN's position, Wakanda does not believe in using such cruel, inhumane conditions for its prisoners." After a quick, sharp look over at Steve, the man stepped back from Bucky's position and asked, "Are you more comfortable, Sergeant Barnes?"

"Much. Thank you."

Steve immediately heard the tension in Bucky's voice and knew that something was definitely going on about which he had not been forewarned. Bucky's eyes were trained on Captain Qukubana and his entire body was tensed as if he were ready to react immediately to something he expected to occur soon.

"Are you in need of medical attention? Water?"

Bucky stared at the captain for a moment before he croaked out, "Water, please."

"Very well. Captain Rogers, I must ask the same of you. Your face and arms are injured."

Surprised to be included in the conversation, as he was clearly only intended to witness whatever was going to occur, Steve replied gruffly, "I am fine, Captain Qukubana. The guard likes to use his stick, that's all. I'll heal."

"You were _not_ authorised to use force upon prisoners already in the cells, Nkosana Mpangele."

"The prisoner was insulting my family, Captain."

Steve glared with outrage at the guard, but before he could say anything, Captain Qukubana coldly replied, "Was he? Well, if that is so, then the recording will show that and he will be properly disciplined. In the meantime, you are being relieved by Corporal Mthunzi."

"But Captain…"

"Report downstairs immediately, Corporal Mpangele."

"Yes, sir."

"I will leave you to your visit now, Mrs Barnes. Mthunzi will give you some water, Sergeant Barnes. After your visit with your wife, you will be taken for a health assessment to be certain your healing has not been obstructed by the restraints."

As the door shut behind Captain Qukubana, the short, stocky corporal approached Bucky's cell with a cup of water. It seemed to Steve that the man's hand was shaking slightly, which made Steve immediately become suspicious of his actions. Bucky, on the other hand, appeared a bizarre mixture of resigned, desperate, and focussed. As soon as Bucky drank the entire cup of water that Corporal Mpangele was holding to his lips, he turned his gaze on Thea with a hopeless, intense longing that was painful for Steve to see.

The corporal smiled apologetically at Thea and quietly said, "I would ask you both to converse in English, Sergeant Barnes. Corporal Mpangele was impolite, but he was correct that the guards need to hear everything that is said to and by a prisoner."

Bucky did not move his eyes from Thea's face as he replied hoarsely, "No problem."

"Are you ok? You don't look well, Yasha."

Steve could hear the misery in Bucky's voice as he replied gruffly, "I'm fine, krasotka. I'm just tired and worried about you. You were unconscious for a long time. They didn't expect you to have trouble waking after they removed the medicine keeping you in the coma."

"I know, but I'm ok. You must have been so worried. I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta apologise for that, Bella. I just want you healthy. The only things in the world as matter are you and the children, understand? I ain't worried about nothing but you three."

"As you can see, Winnie is fine. Jamie is doing well, too. He is speaking in a Russian-English hybrid now, which is your influence, of course. Natalia was reading him Ruslan and Ludmila earlier."

Bucky almost smiled as he replied, "S***, was she? How appropriate, huh? Some bastard kidnaps a man's girl and he's got to get her back. How like Romanova to choose something so on the nose."

"She's like that, isn't she? Jamie seems to adore her and was winding her hair around his fist when she was holding him."

"It sounds like he is ok. You sure Winnie's going to be ok? Ross' people weren't nursery workers. I doubt they gave you any baby formula."

Thea clearly replied, despite Steve's certainty that she would normally demur from admitting anything that might upset Bucky. For whatever reason, Thea wanted Bucky…or someone watching…to know. "No, nothing. None of us had anything to eat or drink the entire time. The dehydration was what was so dangerous for Winnie, Yasha."

Bucky's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I know, krasotka. She's still so young. I wish I could hold her."

"I'll lift her up for you again. See? Just a few scratches on her face are left. She's nearly good as new. Still the prettiest baby girl you ever did see, isn't she?"

"Gorgeous. Just like her mother." Bucky blinked several times to clear the tears out of his eyes and then asked, "How about you, Bella? Steve said they thought the electrocution might have inflamed your RA."

"Yeah. They have me on a lot of painkillers right now. They will monitor me and see how much long-term damage I have sustained. The contact burns from the jumper cables are worse, honestly. I might need grafts or something. I don't really want to talk about that, please? You did understand me, right? You do know that I love you."

"Yeah, baby, I do. Я тоже тебя люблю." At a sound from the guard, Bucky apologised, "Sorry, sorry. I forgot. All I said was: I love you, too."

"Please keep to English, Sergeant Barnes, or I will have to terminate the visitation period."

Steve noticed that Bucky purposefully shifted into their childhood speech patterns, as Bucky nodded and replied, "What happened ain't your fault, baby. You're not used to thinkin' about vengeful bigots like Ross. People like him hate Enhanced of any kind, so they think the rules don't apply when it comes to what they wanna do to an Enhanced. He knew that capturin' you and the babies would bring me outta where we were hidin' from HYDRA."

Thea's voice seemed to get, if possible, even more high-pitched and fragile sounding. Steve had never been more certain that she was acting a part or more frustrated to be left out of the loop. "But you warned me that people might try to hurt us to get to you. I thought that since Steve's wife is a UN attorney and lives openly in Geneva, that no one would dare capture me in her house. I just felt that, surely, no governmental group like Secretary Ross's people would do anything so openly, since they would realise it was horrible publicity to kidnap a family. And HYDRA knows how much you hate them for the torture and abuse they put you through to program you into the Winter Soldier. I should have listened to you. This is all my fault, Yasha."

Bucky started to reply, but his eyes widened and he began gasping. As his breathing became shallower, he started making a horrible choking sound that made Steve's heart lurch painfully. As Thea screamed, Steve began shouting, "Help him! Don't just stand there. Help him!"

Bucky's seizure became more violent, so the guard opened the cell door just as several guards and Thea's nurse rushed into the room. Two of the guards released the restraints holding Bucky, but laid overtop him as if they were hoping to ensure he could not escape. Steve was gripping the bars in terror—watching his best friend struggle for breath. He could see that Thea was gripping Winnie desperately to her chest and sobbing, but she didn't seem shocked. Finally, the nurse jabbed an injection into Bucky's arm and he went still. Although he was breathing more normally, he was no longer conscious.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

"Mary-Claire!" Steve jumped up from the cot where he'd been reading and reached out with both hands towards his wife. "Darling, you're ok? They have treated you well? I've been asking about you, but the Wakandans wouldn't let me see you or give me any updates at all."

Mary-Claire smiled tightly and allowed herself to be wrapped up in Steve's arms. "I've been working on so many different pieces of the plan that even I have had trouble keeping track of it all. The individual threads are being pulled together now. It has been so stressful that Dr Gampeghi approved me going onto the maximum dosage of Xanax for now. I think we might succeed though. I think that it is actually going to work, Steve."

Steve kissed the crown of Mary-Claire's head and then rested his cheek on her glossy black hair, as he replied uneasily, "Good, but I really don't like you having to be on that much medication, dearest. Those pills are very addictive."

"I know. I don't like it either. This is supposed to be short-term though. Dr Gampeghi is monitoring my use, so I should be ok. Robert is here, you know, and he's keeping the pill bottle and corresponding directly with Dr Gampeghi, as well. I asked Robert to keep track for accountability, you see."

Shocked, Steve asked incredulously, "Robert? Your brother actually braved international travel again?"

"He did, yes. Actually, Robert has been in a panic about my health, so he's been a bit…extra, honestly. If Glenn weren't there to keep Robert in line, then I think I might lose it."

"But it is Good that they are both there with you now, so you aren't alone. I've been worrying about that."

"My dear, the only time that I am permitted to be alone is when I'm in the shower or actually asleep. Of course, there is security outside my bedroom, but at least I'm allowed to shut the door when I'm sleeping. Glenn and Robert switch off between covering me or the boys. Currently, Glenn is here in the embassy and Robert is with the boys in the hotel suite."

"And your security team?"

"Oh, they've been extremely thorough. Bucky chose very well. Especially Gleb, who is the one you saw escort me in just now. Although Gleb is very sweet to me—he even brings me tea or cookies whenever I get a bit stressy—he is extraordinarily scary whenever someone just walks in my direction. Without even saying word—using just his terrifying glare, Steve—when we were in the hearing at the ICJ, Gleb actually made General Razinsky take a step back, stop shouting, and start talking to me like a human being. It was beautiful."

Steve nodded. "Good. Razinsky is a swine. I'm sorry that you're having to deal with someone like him."

"He is just one of six people that I've interacted with lately, Steve, who seem to have felt like they should be allowed to demean and physically intimidate Captain America's tiny little wife now that you are supposedly _persona non grata_. Fortunately though, none of them have yet left a meeting with Mary-Claire Rogers without their tails firmly tucked between their legs and their expectations realigned with reality. It is amazing how not one of them had considered before we met that I could possibly have a brain cell or two to rub together. Do they think that I intended to run the Department of Enhanced Human Relations by fluffing my hair and smiling prettily at everyone?"

Snorting with sudden amusement, Steve smiled down at Mary-Claire with obvious pride, "Whatever they did think, I am confident that you jerked their tails straight within a few minutes of meeting them."

Mary-Claire laughed. "Yes, but only in the very nicest of ways, of course." She then sighed. "I hate all of this, but there really isn't any other choice."

"I know. Unfortunately, there isn't. I trust you with this, Mary-Claire. I know it is making you enemies though, so I have to ask you whether you feel safe enough. Are the rest of the security personnel doing their jobs?"

"I'm ok, yes. Kostya and Seryozha are both excellent. You would probably like Vadik best though. He literally knows nothing but Russian and Ukrainian, but, since he never speaks anyway, it doesn't matter. He is so severe and business-like that I am not sure if he remembers how to smile and I think he has 29 knives hidden on him at any given time. I have made several nasty enemies this past week, but, between Gleb and Vadik, they will have to work extra hard to get close to me or the children. Of course, you are the one they really want to hurt though, Steve. The children and I are really just proxies."

"I know. I know. I really screwed things up, didn't I?"

Mary-Claire wrapped her arms around Steve's massive chest and tucked her head under his arm. "No."

"I did though. You approved of me not signing the Accords, Mary-Claire. You understood when I went off to Peggy's funeral without you, even though you weren't happy about it. But then I threw a grenade into the middle of our marriage by running after Bucky, destroying part of an airport so I could race off to Siberia after Zemo, fighting against Tony and giving up my shield, and then taking off on a little side-joint to save my friends from Ross' clutches. You didn't sign on for any of that. I just did it and dragged you along for the ride."

Pulling herself away from his grasp, Mary-Claire stepped back from Steve and looked up at him grimly, as she demanded, "Name one of those things that you shouldn't have done, Steve."

His face flushed red, as Steve reached to pull Mary-Claire back into his arms. However, when she shook her head, he accepted her refusal and shoved his fingers into his long hair and said with anguish, "You know that I had to do all of it. It just wasn't fair to you."

Her eyes flashing with anger, Mary-Claire drawled, "Ah, so ours is a marriage with conditional vows then."

"No. Of course not." Steve reached out and, when she allowed him to hold her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it ardently. "But you had no say in any of this, yet you're paying for it just the same."

"But that is how things go sometimes, Steve. I had no illusions that I was signing up for a rose-strewn path through a perfect little garden. Your job is fighting HYDRA, killer robots, and aliens. I expected a bumpy ride."

His voice was barely audible, as Steve whispered miserably, "I want you to have everything, Mary-Claire."

"That is very sweet, but that isn't realistic, honey. If you are going to feel guilty that you couldn't make everything perfect for me, then we're both going to be miserable. We are going to have to accept compromises and make sacrifices now that we don't want, but that is the only way there is any likelihood that both you and Bucky will be free and back in the United States."

Steve shrugged and his bitterness at their situation was impossible to ignore, as he responded, "Yet, you already managed to get those diktat-swilling bureaucrats in the Hague to look beyond their revenge fantasies long enough to hand jurisdiction over to the United States. I didn't dream that would happen so quickly, if even at all, Mary-Claire."

Mary-Claire looked a bit uncomfortable as she began to explain, "Well, the truth is, some of them want the death penalty for Bucky. So, I used that in our favour. The international court cannot impose capital punishment anymore, so Ross suggested to them that a trial in America where lethal injection is still an option would satisfy both American and international interests. All I had to do was make it clear that Bucky would not contest a return to the United States for trial."

Steve snarled furiously, "It has been a long time since I have hated someone like I hate Ross."

Mary-Claire kissed his cheek and patted his hand soothingly, as she replied, "I know, dear, he is a truly awful man. I believe that Ross was also behind the days of testimony with outrageously personal and private questions that Thea endured when we were at the ICJ meeting with the tribunal. In the end, however, all they managed to prove was that Bucky really is Sergeant Barnes, so the United States finally issued a passport and assigned jurisdiction to the Army. In the end, even Justice Prydz couldn't pretend that Bucky was not a POW when he was the Winter Soldier."

"I think that will be incredibly important to Buck, Mary-Claire."

"That is what Thea thinks, too. We are really fortunate that neither Ross nor the international community knows what evidence we have about what was done to his brain. Accordingly, we need to allow them to continue believing that we have nothing but a collection of hearsay about the torture, HYDRA memos about the serum and the cryo-storage, and video footage of Bucky being activated by the Winter Soldier programme words, until the Article 32 hearing in New York when it is too late for them to change strategies. If we all play along, then things may just go our way."

"Baby, I will do anything you tell me that I need to do in order to get Bucky cleared. I trust you."

Mary-Claire smiled. "Thank you. I think we have a good chance, at least. But your situation is harder. I don't think that you're going to like what we are going to have to accept."

"I expected that, since I did what they are accusing me of doing, darling. I had a good reason, of course. As a commissioned officer, I can't follow a bad order, you know. And as Steve Rogers, you know I gotta stand up for Buck."

"Yes, I do know. I'm afraid that a trial isn't going to go well. We have to circumvent the courtroom, Steve."

Steve stared at her for a moment and then gasped. "No."

"As an option, it isn't awesome, no. However, you would have your freedom and you could retire at your current rank with an honourable discharge. You and Bucky would be together and you'd be home with me and the boys. I think that a successful outcome at trial is probably at best 50-50, Steve."

His voice cracking as he spoke, Steve replied, "If I let you do that…if I accept that option, then I am admitting disgrace. But with a trial, then I'm asking my fellow officers to judge me. We got good evidence, don't we? They should see that."

"Yes, we do. However, although I think that everyone would understand your choices, legally they might not have a choice to do anything other than convict."

Steve dropped his head into his hands and silently worked to calm his breathing. Finally, he looked up and said miserably, "I'd like to think that my faith in people isn't misplaced, Mary-Claire, but right now I am really struggling at that."

"I know, Steve. I really do." Mary-Claire kissed his cheek again and then laid her head on his shoulder. "This is a choice that is up to you. I will accept either way you decide. If you want a trial, then we will put up a bitter fight. If you want…"

"No, just let me think about it, ok? Please?"

"Ok. I understand, honey. I do. We are going to be moved to England until they are ready to extradite you both to the United States. Thea's brother Richard has offered to keep both of you at Arnwell House, in addition to hosting the dozens of MOD and MI5 personnel that would be tasked with security. Once Richard has completed the MOD's ludicrous list of security demands for the house, then Wakanda will transport us to their embassy in London and afterwards a veritable security circus will take us out to Coventry. We should have several weeks there, I think."

"Will I be allowed to see the children when I'm being held there?"

"Oh, I meant that you and Bucky will have free reign of the house and the fenced in portion of backyard that is directly behind the main house. You'll each be staying with your families and free to be with each other, too."

Steve's face lit up and he exclaimed, "Really? That's incredible. That will be more time than I've had with the babies in their entire lives. Aw jeez, you know how bad I've wanted to hold them and kiss their little faces? If I can spend every day with them and with you, then that's the best news you've given me yet, Mary-Claire."

"I thought you'd be excited. I'm pretty thrilled, too."

"Yeah?" He ran his hand along her hair as he smiled and then flushed as he saw the look in her eyes. "I know that I haven't mentioned it, but I felt like the various jail cells you've been visiting me in were not really very appropriate locations to say anything private. You've been working so hard to undo my mess, so I don't know if I even have any right to say this. But I've missed you like _h*ll_."

Steve placed both hands on Mary-Claire's face and kissed her passionately before he pulled away and continued speaking. "Of course, I miss the boys. I'm also worried about Buck. I'm even concerned about his wife and kids. However, I haven't stopped thinking of you for a single moment, Mary-Claire. Honestly, being away from you has felt like…like I was thrown back into a grainy black and white movie after a short few months of experiencing incredible, full technicolour. I haven't felt a moment of joy or peace since I flew off to London for that d*** funeral. Being apart from you was the very worst of it all, Mary-Claire."

She looked down at her hands, which were tightly clasped in her lap, and replied quietly, "I know, Steve, it's been awful."

"Honestly, it has been agony, darling. I don't think you really understand how much I need you. I love you so much. I'll never be able to explain how much."

Mary-Claire's head snapped up and she stared up at him, as she forcefully replied, "Steve, do you think that I would have transferred to Geneva, stayed there as a single mother of infant twins, and worked so fiercely on this awful, miserable plan for _anyone_ but you?"

Steve grasped her hands and held them up to his chest. "No. I am sorry, darling. I wasn't trying to diminish your experience. I swear that I wasn't. I know you've been miserable. Honestly, I think that you've had it even worse than me."

"I don't think that's true, Steve. I just want to be sure that you're not losing track of the fact that I love you a stupidly huge amount. I'm your girl through and through, regardless of the outcome of your legal situation. I just hope that this time we're not having twins, Steve."

"I still can't believe it—I never thought we'd get lucky again so quickly. You're amazing, Mary-Claire. I don't deserve a girl like you. I know that I don't. I can't tell you how amazing you are and how incredible you have been through all this."

Mary-Claire shook her head and insisted, "I want us to be able to live together as a family, Steve. I'm certainly not going to give up on that hope without giving it my very best effort even if I'm just throwing punches as I fall."

Steve kissed her forehead and then replied huskily, "I promise that I'll follow your lead here, so I don't mess up whatever you have planned, ok? I don't know how I ever landed a brilliant woman like you, Mary-Claire, but I'll be d*** sure to do anything I gotta do to stay with you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Steve."

He wrapped his arms around her and said in a low, serious voice, "Mary-Claire, I was trying to say that if you can get them to agree, that I'll go along with it. I need to be with you and the children, no matter the cost. I assume that I'd be required to work with the Avengers again."

Mary-Claire nodded sorrowfully. "Yes, and probably not as the leader anymore, since they will likely insist on civilian control. However, they aren't going to want to approve Bucky to be a member, too."

Surprised, Steve shrugged. "Good. I don't think that Bucky wants to fight anymore."

"Steve, you're much more mature than you were after Azzano. Don't make the same mistake twice."

Steve punched his thigh angrily and exclaimed, "D*** it! If he is able to get an acquittal, then Bucky should be able to retire in peace, Mary-Claire. He just wants to spend his time with Thea and his children."

"Maybe so, but he can't. You know that he can't, any more than you could stay out if it when Bucky was in danger, despite how you feel about me."

He groaned and clenched his fists before grumbling, "Yeah. Yeah. I know."

"Thea tells me that she is certain that if he is acquitted, Bucky would insist on watching your back in the field, Steve. Let him make his own decisions, ok?"

"You're right, I know. I cannot accept an open-ended indentured servitude in return for my freedom though. There has to be a limit. I know my body is different than baseline, but I cannot be punching aliens and terrorists forever."

"If you are physically capable, then will you actually be able to stand aside?"

His jaw jutting out firmly as he nodded his head, Steve then declared, "If there are other people to take my place, then yes. It seems like there are more and more Enhanced or otherwise physically advanced people all the time."

"Ok then. They will want you to work at their beck and call for as long as it is convenient to them, so I'm not sure what limits they will accept. Are you willing to insist that Bucky should be permitted to work with you if he wants to? You will have to make serious concessions for that."

"Yes, but I won't have him forced. I will refuse any agreement that includes making Bucky do anything he doesn't choose."

"Alright. I'll start putting that into play, but I have no idea when I will hear back."

Steve nuzzled her neck and replied, "Not sure that I care right now, Mary-Claire. I haven't been able to hold you in so long. Did they tell you how much time you'd be allowed to stay?"

"Actually, now that you are being tried in the US, Wakanda has revoked all the UN's orders regarding your detainment. In a little while, they are going to move you into a guest suite on the same corridor where they are holding Sam and Natasha. I'm going to be allowed to stay there with you until this evening, when I need to return to the boys, but I should be back tomorrow."

His eyes widened, as Steve asked excitedly, "Yeah? When?"

"I don't know. Do you want me to see if they are ready to move you yet?"

Steve stood up. "Definitely."

Mary-Claire laughed. "I'll be right back."

Kissing the tip of her nose with a huge smile on his face, Steve replied, "Ok. It isn't like I'm going anywhere in the meantime."

* * *

Steve stared out the window of the car as it turned from the A46 onto Arnwell Road and wondered just how long the drive up to the house must be. He could not see anything but hills, fields, and trees. It reminded him very much of Mary-Claire's family's house, where the area surrounding was now completely removed and yet was once utterly dependent on the estate for its economy. He suspected that the Arnwells had once owned much of the land they were driving through, in fact—perhaps they even still had at the time that he and Bucky had first come to England. It was an odd thought that he and Bucky would have likely been the same age as or older than Thea's grandfather. Steve wondered if he had ever been billeted in the same building as a young Lieutenant or Captain Arnwell, perhaps. He hoped not, honestly. He was used to modern New York or DC now, but the England of wartime still felt more real than modern England did. He didn't like thinking of how many of the men he'd known from that place—it didn't feel like a time—were long dead now.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the car finally turned through a gate onto a smaller drive and Bucky gruffly asked, "This is all your family's land, krasotka?"

Thea's response was distant and rather sad. "Mmhm. It used to be larger, but the tax burden was too immense. My grandfather sold off quite a lot. My father is the one who opened the house up to the public during the summer to help make ends meet. The ruins of the abbey are early Norman. That's the only reason we get many visitors really. The house itself is just a standard Georgian pile though, since the original buildings were burned during the Civil War and our family had another estate at that time so they didn't bother to rebuild for a while. As houses go, it is not particularly special to the average tourist."

It took a moment for Steve to realise that to Thea 'the Civil War' meant Cromwell, the Roundheads, and the execution of a king in a conflict more than two centuries before the American Civil War and not very long after the Dutch founded his home state of New York. Steve had noticed during the war how for all the ways that English culture felt familiar, something often seemed to stand out oddly to remind him how surprisingly different the British truly were.

Steve looked over at his wife and smiled as he remembered a particularly spirited conversation that he and Mary-Claire had once had regarding the Battle at Rivers Bridge, which had occurred only a few miles from her family's home. It was one the few arguments that he had managed to win with her, but his fond memory had very little to do with that. In fact, he had just enjoyed tangling wits with his brilliant wife when he could actually hold his own on the subject. In the end, they'd been surrounded by stacks of maps and books, then even made a call to her cousin Glenn to check a point of family history, before she finally conceded his superior understanding of military tactics (though his inferior grasp of Proper, Decent Culture was naturally implied).

Just as they drove past a beautiful, small lake, Steve brought his thoughts back to the moment and commented, "Honestly, it is incredibly beautiful here, Thea. It must have been a wonderful place to grow up."

Thea smiled warmly at him, but Steve could see that Thea's nerves were so strained that he looked over at Bucky with concern. "Well, thank you, but I didn't really. I spent summers here when my grandfather was alive. When Father inherited it, I was 12 and already at school. So again, summers and holidays. I never lived here full-time. But I've always loved it here. I fought my brothers like a tigress for the old blue room, since it had a view of the lake. There, you can see now."

Bucky had acknowledged Steve's worry with a tight nod and then stiffened as soon as the immense brick structure of the house came into view. They both looked at the enormous, sprawling building in disquiet before turning back to each other to silently communicate regarding the security concerns in a house of that size. It was unlikely that the MOD was as concerned about anyone _breaking in_ to the house as they were. However, each of them had sufficient personal experience with HYDRA to know that all of them were targets and Arnwell House would be a cake walk for their enemies. Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve, who nodded twice to indicate his complete agreement. Ross didn't have to rely on the US government to effect the death penalty on Bucky: both of their families could be wiped out right there in Coventry. From his tight jaw and frozen posture, Steve could tell that Bucky, who was already drowning in insecurity about Thea's desire to be with him, was rapidly sinking further into his guilt and fear that he was going to lose everything that mattered.

Beside him, Mary-Claire seemed blithely unaware of both Bucky and Steve's distress, as she happily commented, "Oh, it's a lovely house, Thea! I cannot wait to see your old room. Sarabeth had the good room at our house—the one with the balcony overtop the side gardens. Robert and Riley had the rooms with the huge bookcases, which I also thought was so unfair. Great-aunt had the one with the other balcony. Mine was the old nursery, since they needed to keep me close to my parents. It didn't even have a real fireplace, just an old coal one, so I always felt cheated. No closet either—just a big ugly Victorian wardrobe."

Thea laughed genuinely and replied, "Same. Closets were a 19th century thing and Arnwells are allergic to renovations. Truly, baths are quite an adventure, as you never know what you'll get when you turn the tap. Also, I had a narrow old coal fireplace that had a supremely ugly electric fire installed sometime in the 40s. But you actually need the fireplaces in this place. It literally could not be draughtier and actually dare to call itself a house. Typical old English home, really. I suppose that isn't a massive concern in South Carolina, is it?"

"Not really. Central air-conditioning is the thing that you want to ask about when it comes to old Southern houses. Window units are woefully inadequate. When you come to visit, we'll put you in the back guest room. That room has such wonderful AC that you could wear a sweater in July."

"I am not certain if I'll be allowed to visit, but I appreciate the invitation. I believe that I am restricted from leaving the state of New York once I am processed."

Mary-Claire's voice was sharp and much firmer than usual, as she stated, "That is not part of the paperwork that I arranged, Thea. Did they give you something else this morning at the American embassy?"

Oh jeez, it had come to this already. Steve had hoped that this revelation could wait until he was alone with Mary-Claire that evening, so they could talk it out privately. She had worked so hard to make things come right for Bucky and Thea. He had dreaded the look of defeat that he expected to see on her face when she learned of the newest developments. He explained seriously, "They have decided that Bucky needs more extensive monitoring and, since Thea is not allowed to be more than 100 miles from his location, they decided to restrict them both to the boroughs only."

"Oh, good heavens, Steven; you did not think to mention this to me then? You two allowed her to sign that paperwork without letting me read over it?"

As the car slowed to a stop in the half-circle near the front door, Bucky spoke up protectively, as if Mary-Claire was somehow blaming Thea for the change. Steve tried to catch his eye, but with no success. "There wasn't any choice. We needed you supervising the children's paperwork, right? It was a f***ing good thing we did, too, considering what they tried to do with Jamie's birth certificate. And Thea wasn't being given the choice to have someone read anything over. It was sign or be refused entry into the country."

Just as he had feared, Mary-Claire clearly blamed herself for not foreseeing the difficulty. She slapped her hand on her knee angrily. "They knew I'd go with the children. I should have expected it. Ugh!"

Steve only just managed to grab her hand in his and said gently, "You have predicted 90% of what they've tried to pull and fixed up everything else that you hadn't expected before they could finish their move. There had to be one thing they'd get by us. It isn't that bad, beautiful."

With a warning look at Bucky, who immediately sat back with a grimace like he'd been publicly admonished, Thea smiled at Steve and then said, "You've truly been incredible, Mary-Claire. We really wouldn't be here if it were not for the plans that you and your colleagues made. All that matters is that we are going to New York together and that my children will be there with us."

Bucky tried miserably to get his wife's attention, but she was pointedly ignoring him, which was causing Bucky to become increasingly panicked. Steve squeezed Mary-Claire's hand, causing her to look up at him and smile. He could see that she was unhappy and expected that she was going to make a dozen very displeased calls once they were inside the house. Yet, there was little that could be done now that the papers were signed. Steve mouthed silently, "I love you." Mary-Claire flushed slightly and looked away, yet she gripped his hand more tightly in reply.

Meanwhile, Thea had given up watching her brother's heated conversation with a tall, elderly man that Steve imagined was probably a member of MI5 or perhaps MI6, but certainly one of the various British security organisations. When she turned to Bucky, her cold expression immediately melted and she smiled up at him with a look of complete adoration. The transformative effect on Bucky was instantaneous and wonderful. Steve closed his eyes with relief, as he did not feel like either he or Bucky could handle the upcoming weeks without the sure knowledge that their wives would be waiting for them after the ordeal was through.

Silence suddenly filled the car as they waited tensely for the caravan of MOD and security vehicles to encircle their own, as well as for the assorted vehicles with the children, social workers, and marshals to arrive.

Finally, the door to their car was opened by a grim-looking agent, who allowed first Mary-Claire and then Thea to exit. After both women were taken over towards the area where the children were being held by the team of marshals and social workers, a group of twelve uniformed men surrounded the vehicle where Bucky and Steve in which waiting. Steve was allowed to exit first and his ankle shackles were checked for tightness before they were reconnected to his handcuffs. Then, Bucky was pulled from the vehicle by two of the SAS personnel, who passed him to four others that were waiting to tighten and recheck all of his restraints.

Steve snapped his head over towards the source of the outraged, forceful voice that angrily sneered, "This is utterly ludicrous. I have agreed to host my brother-in-law and Captain America in my home at my own expense until the time of the court martial, which, I might add, is saving both Her Majesty's and the American governments a tidy sum. They are not to be prisoners in my home, nor would any of these ridiculous measures be sufficient to stop a super-soldier who was disinclined to cooperate. You are acting purely out of a desire to shame, which I will not allow. Take those bloody things off. Now."

Richard Arnwell's unimposing height and unimpressive physique ought to have made him appear ridiculous next to the enormous and quite intimidating SAS officer, who was waiting with the transfer of custody papers. Yet, somehow, Richard was actually the one who appeared thoroughly in control as he snatched the paperwork and repeated, "Off. Now."

"My orders are that the restraints stay on until they are inside the property, so as to ensure that the children are in a safe environment."

"You utter tw*t, just where do you think the children will be when they are inside the house? These men are fathers, major. They will be changing nappies and reading bedtime stories about trains or unicorns just like every other decent father in Britain tonight. What precisely is it in aid of to force the children to see their fathers in chains right now? This is my private property and I alone will determine how my guests are to be treated whilst they are on my land. Take those ridiculous things off before you embarrass yourself further."

The soldier scowled. "Very well, but on your head be it, Sir Richard, if anything happens."

"What is going to happen between this point and the front door that could not happen six seconds after they are inside the house and the restraints are removed?"

Steve nodded at Bucky, who sighed and said, "It doesn't matter, Richard. Let them have their victory."

The SAS officer moved to remove Bucky's handcuffs, however Bucky apparently decided to twist his wrist so they popped off. He shrugged when he saw the soldier's fury and just muttered, "Sorry. They aren't broken or nothing. It was just easier that way."

The man hissed with anger and gestured to several of the other soldiers to remove the other chains on Bucky and then the restraints on Steve. Smiling impishly at Bucky, Steve completed the same manoeuvre that Bucky had and said with a bright smile that he knew would annoy Bucky, "Thanks, Major Halsey. These things itch."

Richard snorted with satisfaction and stated firmly, "Right. You lot can escort them in. I'm going to see to my sister and the children. Who even knows what ridiculous procedure you have in place there?" As he walked away, he muttered angrily, "Utter tw*ts. Commissions used to mean something. What has Britain come to if this is the best of the officer corps?"

Steve fell into place next to Bucky and poked him with his elbow. "Hiya, Buck. Having fun?"

Just as Steve had expected, Bucky glared at him and said in a low voice, "You're such a little s***, Rogers. 'These things itch.'"

Steve grinned. "Mmhm. It was just easier that way, Buck?"

"Well, it was. They take forever to fiddle with their little keys."

"Sure, Buck. So. Thea's ancestral home, huh?"

Buck's slight smile dropped immediately and he commented sourly, "Looks like it."

"Holy s***, Buck. Us, the two guys as had to heat our bath water on the wood burner and take hip baths like it was freakin' civil war times. Who the hell have we become?"

"Dunno, Steve. I ask myself that every d*** day."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

As he continued to stare into the glow of the low fire, Bucky cleared his throat and said quietly, "So, I looked it up and the Dodgers are playing the Mets at the beginning of next August, Steve."

Startled, Steve laughed shortly. He shook his head and knocked his shoulder against Bucky's. "I've actually been to Citi Field. It's nice, but it doesn't feel like home or nothin'."

Bucky looked at Steve briefly and then sighed. From the shift in Bucky's grim expression, Steve could read the depth of his friend's concern for him. Despite all the changes and all the years, Bucky could still read him as easily as a Dick and Jane primer. No one, not even Mary-Claire, understood all the weird and varied facets of Steve Rogers like Bucky did. As usual, Bucky didn't speak about it, but instead, replied to what Steve had actually said, "Well, no, it's in f***in' Queens, Steve. Could be worse though."

"Yeah, yeah, the Bronx."

Bucky shrugged and mumbled, "Or Jersey."

"Nah, that's not worse, that's just wrong, Buck."

It was several minutes before Bucky finally spoke again. He was still leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees, as he stared in front of him. Steve watched his friend's shoulders tense, as he asked, "So, what do you think, Steve? Is it possible?"

As well as he knew the following day was a Wednesday, Steve was sure that Bucky did not believe that he would be allowed out of prison, let alone be permitted to live out the year. This was just like that night in Malta when Bucky had spun out a wonderful fantasy of returning to Brooklyn and raising their children next door to each other. That was when Steve had realised that Bucky had not expected to return from the war, yet Steve had gone along with it so they'd played out the fantasy nevertheless. Even pretending to hope was better than despairing, at least sometimes. "Maybe. I don't know, Buck. It is risky."

Bucky sat back and glanced sidelong at Steve, as he smirked, "Yeah, well, so's just about everything you and I have done together since 1923, pal."

He wistfully replied, as he thought about actually having the freedom to go somewhere like a baseball game with Bucky, "It would sure be fun though."

"It isn't like they'd be looking for either of us at a f***in' baseball game, right?"

Steve snorted with amusement. "Well, it is the Dodgers."

Grunting with anger, Bucky replied gruffly, "Yeah, still mad at 'em though. Cali-f***in-fornia, Steve."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, Buck? They didn't ask me for permission or nothin'. And I ain't gonna become a Yankees fan, ok? Not as long as I still breathe."

Bucky's eyes went wide and he laughed aloud, before he replied, "Steve, no one is accusing you of being a f***in' moron. Though I'm wondering what you think about the new consolation prize team."

"Eh. It's baseball in New York, so I guess I'll take it even if Mets is a dumb name. At least they don't follow this new s*** that the so-called American league added to the mix."

"What's that?"

"Oh. Ohhhhh, Buck. You're gonna be so furious."

Bucky sat up with a jerk and turned to face Steve more directly. "Waddaya mean, Steve?"

How had Bucky missed that? Typically, it was Steve who was the clueless one about modern changes. He peered over at Bucky and saw the wary alarm on his friend's face and suddenly began laughing. It was nearly a full minute before he managed to calm down enough to say, "Conversation for another day, Bucky. Because, one, I got other things we gotta talk about right now and, two, I don't wanna wake up the household. Cause you're gonna be royally pissed off."

"What did they do? Did they ruin baseball, Steve?"

Steve grinned and flopped back against the sofa cushion, as he replied, "Weeeell, I mean, all the decent teams are still sensible enough because they're in the National League. Where anyone with any d*** sense would be, obviously. But seeing as, unlike you, I'm not a cheater and I don't like cheating ways…"

Outraged, Bucky punched Steve's arm and insisted, "Hey! I ain't the one as took a fuzzed ball into that game with O'Hanlon and the Carleton brothers."

Holy moly, he'd forgotten that. That had been one of the fights that he'd felt truly guilty about afterwards. Bucky had rarely ended up with more than a few bruises or a black eye when he inevitably waded in to whatever skirmish Steve had involved himself in, but that time Bucky had broken both a finger and his nose. He hadn't been able to pitch for the rest of the summer because of it. Steve turned away from Bucky's gaze, as he said quietly. "It was the only d*** ball I had, Buck."

"Keep trying to sell that story, Steve. Maybe one day you'll find a buyer. In the meantime, what did they do to ruin baseball? S***. I mean, we fools all went off to war to freakin' save the world for freedom, goodness, apple pie, and the honest pure all-American wholesomeness that is baseball and they can't even keep their commie mitts off the best d*** game in the world? I lived with Soviet bulls*** for decades and Soviet cr*p is utter balls, Steve. But I figured at least America—home of Barrett, Gerber, and Colt—still had sense."

Jeez. Only Bucky. Steve was almost choking with laughter, as he responded, "Well, leave it to you to list America's top achievements as excellent weaponry and baseball. The travesty that I'm talking about though is called the designated hitter rule. Pitchers don't hafta swing a bat no more."

"Huh what?"

Almost giggling with glee at Bucky's reaction, Steve explained, "They don't gotta hit, Buck. They have a designated hitter that does it for them."

Enraged, Bucky whispered in genuine horror, "Like a freakin' ringer?"

"Yep. Got it in one, Buck."

His voice raising to a low growl, Bucky demanded, "What the actual f***, Steven?"

"That was my reaction, too. But the dumba** who was teaching me about modern baseball when I was getting my 'Bring Cap into the 21st Century' lessons from SHIELD was a d***ed White Sox fan."

Bucky snorted and waved his hand while he drawled as dismissively as only a native New Yorker could, "Well, Chicago is for losers anyway."

As loyal a son of Brooklyn as Bucky was, Steve nodded and replied with pity, "Not everyone is privileged enough to be born in New York, Buck."

"Huh, not everyone is even privileged enough to be born in the correct borough, Steve."

Honestly, these days even Brooklyn barely felt like home. Too many kids wandering around with jeans 'skinny' enough to look painted on, unfortunate hair and unkempt beards, unfunny 'ironic' shirts, and smartphones seemingly epoxied to their hands. "True. The spider kid is from Queens."

"Yeah, well, he seemed like a decent enough kid though. Not like he was from Jersey or nothing, jeez, Steve."

Steve smiled reminiscently. No one on earth despised Jersey like Buck. The arguments that he and DiCapistrano used to have that summer in Malta…even Dugan couldn't make Bucky as mad as that. Speaking of the great state New Jersey…"Oh, Bucky, meant to tell you. I finally looked up what happened to Mack Peoples."

Bucky's expression immediately shifted into disgust. "Tell me it was gruesome."

"Very. Really, really appropriate. Remind me to tell you later. It's a good story, but I'm too tired to do it justice."

Bucky laughed, but it was a bitter sound that showed Steve how much Bucky really must remember about the summer of 1937. "Good. He was such a d*ck, Steve."

"That he was, Buck. That he absolutely was."

All at once, Steve could feel the change in Bucky's demeanour, as he made the decision to broach the subject that they both knew needed discussion. Tony. "So. Time to get things done tomorrow."

Steve hissed out a long, low breath. "Aw s***, now?"

"Yeah, it's time."

"Well…well, ok. But for the record, Bucky, I do NOT like it."

Bucky laid his hand on Steve's arm and said seriously, "Didn't ask if you liked it. _I_ don't f***ing like it. But it has got to be done."

After a pause, Steve said sharply, "Fine."

"So, how are we going to handle it?"

Hesitating, as he knew how ugly the call would probably be, Steve looked over at Bucky to gauge his emotional state. "I'll call him."

"Not without me there."

"No, no, Buck. I meant that I'll initiate the call. Video call."

Bucky replied stiffly. "Right. Ok. Should be fun."

Steve was startled into laughing slightly, then groaned. "Barrel of laughs, Buck."

"Shuddup, Steve."

"Buck?"

Bucky's head snapped up and he stared at Steve, as if waiting for him to say something that Bucky had been dreading. Confused and concerned, Steve laid a hand on Bucky's back for a moment. Then, Bucky replied quietly, "What, Steve?"

"Thank you."

"What the ever-living f*** for, Steve? Pal, I ain't done nothin'."

Steve favoured his friend with an unimpressed, annoyed glare. Bucky had always been terrible at accepting gratitude from him. "Bucky."

Bucky sighed. "Fine. Ok. I know. But you gotta understand, Steve. I was the Asset for decades. They suppressed everything that made me a person, but there was a reason it kept failin', ok? They had to keep wipin' me because just showin' me the news reports of your death wasn't enough to keep me compliant for long. But then you awakened James Barnes again. Thea made me human again, but you woke me up. So, put that in your pipe and smoke it for a while, Steve. If either of us should be grateful, then it's me. I don't like us talkin' about it. We're brothers just like we always have been. It ain't never gonna change. Right?"

Steve reached out and gripped Bucky's shoulder at the same time as he made a choking gasp. He would never deserve Bucky's loyalty or friendship, but he wouldn't stop trying to do anything he could. "Buck. Always. Always."

Bucky turned his eyes back to the fire and seemed to lose himself in the mesmerising glow. Nearly ten minutes later, when Steve was starting to wonder if he should try to herd Bucky towards the bedrooms, Bucky quietly replied, "Always, Steve. No matter what happens, we always had each other. You meant more to me than Joey and Jack, you know. I always felt guilty about that, but…well. You were more my brother than they were somehow. Just wanted you to know that."

"They understood, Buck. You know that, right?"

"I was their older brother, Steve. I ought to have done more for 'em."

"Bucky, they loved you. They both looked up to you."

Bucky sighed. "They ran off and got themselves killed. Volunteered."

"I never thought about it then, but that was why you were so angry at me, wasn't it?"

His eyes hollow as he sank into his bitter memories, Bucky said baldly, "Yes. I always knew you were going to succeed at getting into the Army eventually. Nothin' ever stopped you, Steve. Not then and not now. I just hoped that you'd take long enough to get past your streak of 4Fs that the war would be over before you were done training. Then when Joey…and only two months later it was Jack…s***, Steve. I couldn't lose _you_ that way, ya know?"

Steve hunched over his knees and tried to keep himself from sobbing as he felt the waves of guilt and hopelessness wash over him. "I'm sorry, Bucky. I was too selfish to understand that then. All I wanted was to fight at your side, you know? Phillips tried to get me to pressure you to take that honourable discharge. At the time, I thought I was defending you when I swore myself blue to him that you were perfectly fine to stay and fight with me and the commandos. It was only recently that I realised that it was really all for me. I couldn't imagine doing any of it without you. I needed you beside me in the fight, Buck. Even though I knew you…"

Bucky interrupted angrily, "No, Steve. No. I hid how I was feeling from you. You didn't know the truth of what they'd done to me at Azzano. You had no way of knowing the h*ll I was in mentally then. And if I'd gone home, then I'd have blown my brains out. There wasn't no point in giving up and leaving you out there alone. You _were_ doing it for me, Steve. I assigned myself the role of Steve Rogers' sidekick when I was 7. You knew I couldn't leave you out there."

Determined to get through to Bucky, Steve began to insist miserably, "But if you hadn't…"

"Shut the f*** up, Steve. Just…shut up." Bucky's fury was intense, as he shoved his finger in Steve's face and growled, "No one but HYDRA is responsible for what happened to me. You don't get to take the blame for that, buddy. Let that go. You saved me from Zola and Red Skull in '43. You saved me again from my programming in 2014 on that f***in' helicarrier. You saved me in Bucharest, Berlin, and Siberia in 2016. How many times do you hafta save me to stop feeling like you ain't done enough, Steve?

Shocked, Steve said uncertainly, "But…but, Bucky, you know why I did all that."

"Yeah, I do. Because we're brothers and that's what we do. So, pack up the pity party and get over it."

"Ok. Ok, Buck. I get it. I do. Thank you."

"Whatever, Steve. I don't want your thanks. I want you to face the present and look to the future. Don't keep worrying about our past, ok? I'm gonna need you in the right here and now, as are Mary-Claire and the twins."

* * *

"Feeling better?"

Steve stopped in his tracks and looked through the dark room towards the bed where he had thought Mary-Claire was sleeping. "A little, yes."

"Were they rolled towards each other? They do that a lot."

"Yeah, they were actually. It was somethin'."

He heard Mary-Claire's reply, but even though he was standing right beside the ancient bedstead, he couldn't see her face at all. "They feel calmer when they are touching, I think. Sometimes Riley will touch his forehead to James' or James will put his hand on Riley so they're basically cuddling."

"I don't know how I'm going to handle being separated from the boys again, Mary-Claire. Our best-case scenario could still take months. They're going to be completely different then. I'm going to miss everything, aren't I?"

He heard the clicking sound of a lamp switch, then the area surrounding them was bathed with low light. Steve saw the concern and uncertainty written on Mary-Claire's face, as she replied, "You will be missing a lot, yes, but it won't be everything. There isn't anything that we can do to change that, Steve."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just angry about it, that's all. I'm tired, Mary-Claire. I'm so d*** tired. I don't want to fight aliens or robots and I definitely don't want to fight my friends again."

Mary-Claire tugged the front of her bedjacket closed and then smiled sadly at Steve. "I wish Tony had been more magnanimous about the situation, but you knew that wasn't going to be an easy call."

"I did, but it was still awful. Tony was my friend once. Now, honestly, I think he just can't trust me ever again."

"You kept something from him that turned out to be very important to him. He isn't a man who makes friends easily, but he trusted you. He is someone who is very loyal and, to him, you were disloyal. He will eventually come to some sort of acceptance, Steve. He's a decent person and he won't be able to ignore that he was just as wrong as you were."

He hid his face briefly behind his hands as he tried desperately to find his composure, then rubbed his face briskly so he could stay alert. "I wish that I'd told him when I found out that there was a chance that Bucky had been the assassin HYDRA sent. I didn't know for certain, but I knew it was possible. I just told myself that it would be wrong to tell Tony until I knew for sure. And until I knew he wouldn't go after Bucky."

"I know. Tony understands that, too, which means he knows that you didn't fully trust him. You cannot expect that not to hurt him, honey. He has also had time by now to go through all my evidence. I gave him everything that we have, you know. So, Tony is very well-aware that Bucky was a victim, not a perpetrator. That doesn't mean that he will ever choose to be around Bucky. But he may build a friendship with you again, Steve. I don't know. It won't be the same, but it could be ok again. We will just have to see."

Steve grunted with exhaustion as he sat down beside Mary-Claire. "Do you think that I should do something different?"

"No. Give Tony the space he needs to figure himself out. You didn't betray him, but you didn't trust him. That's a wound that will cut deep. Show him that you do trust him now and let him dictate what he needs from you."

"Ok. I can do that."

"And what do you need from him, Steve?"

"Nothing. Tony came and helped us when they took Bucky's family. As far as I'm concerned, I am still Tony's friend. The ball is in his court to determine where we go from here."

Mary-Claire lifted his hand to her cheek and looked up at him pointedly. "Steve, he tried to kill Bucky. You can't ignore that. Harming Bucky is the one unforgiveable sin in your book."

"I am _not_ ignoring it, Mary-Claire. I'm just saying that I can let that go. I don't think that Tony would have done what he did if he hadn't just watched a video of the Winter Soldier killing his mother. Even an hour to get control would have been enough to keep Tony from going that far, I think. But then Tony put himself on the line to save Bucky's family, so he redeemed himself in my eyes, Mary-Claire. I don't know what I'm going to have to do for Tony to be able to trust me again though."

"Honestly, he does trust you, Steve. Tony just had you on a really high pedestal, which a lot of people do. It isn't fair to you, since you are only human. You're brave and kind and honest and so many truly good qualities, but everyone seems to expect you to be infallible and inhumanly detached. It isn't fair, but it is how it is."

"I guess." Steve's posture drooped and he groaned miserably.  
I was given an incredible gift by Dr Erskine, Mary-Claire. I cannot forget that. I have to use the chance that he gave me. I gotta try to help people or else I won't be worthy of his choice. He believed in me, you know?"

"Didn't you tell me that Dr Erskine wanted you to be a good man above all else?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, he did. That's all I ever wanted to be even before then."

"Exactly. Well, a good man is not perfect. He has thoughts and feelings and opinions just like anyone else. Your flaws are part of you. You could not ever be perfect without no longer being human."

"I have to keep trying, Mary-Claire. If I just give up and let myself stop trying to be better than I am, then who would I even be anymore?"

Mary-Claire smiled. "You wouldn't be you. However, I am trying to tell you that you are not a failure, Steve. You made a mistake, you've repented it, and you've tried to make it right. That does not make you a villain. It makes you just a man, much like Tony."

He chuckled slightly and then muttered, "You are far too intelligent, you know. How am I ever going to get a good self-pitying sulk in if you're around, huh?"

"I don't know. How did you manage one when you had either Sam or Bucky on your case?"

Now Steve laughed genuinely. "I didn't. I really seem to like to surround myself with people who don't put up with my cr*p. Thank you, darling. You're amazing."

"No, Steve, I'm just clever. You're the one who is amazing. I do love you so much."

"Do you truly doubt how incredible you are? Perhaps I need to show you all over again. Some girls take a lot of convincing, apparently."

Mary-Claire shook her head and replied only, "No."

"No? Are you sure?" Steve leant forwards and whispered, "Very sure? Because I am."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Bucky frowned at the tank-sized man who was rapidly explaining something in urgent, frustrated Russian. When the man was done talking, Bucky replied shortly and then turned to Steve. "Vadik here says that we have a serious problem, Steve. I don't like it."

Steve sighed. "And I don't like that my wife's entire security team knows—at most—twenty English words between them. I can't always rely on you to translate."

"Maybe not, but I am here now and you need to take this seriously, Steve."

"I'm very serious about my family's security, Buck. That's why I am worried that I have no idea what Vadik just said. So, what is wrong?"

"Several things. One is regarding Mary-Claire's security. Gleb and Kostya have removed bugs and trackers from her clothing, bags, and devices. Seryozha has discovered and removed several nasty programmes from her phone and computer. All of them feel that we should add personnel, so there are always two on duty for her and one for the children."

"D*** it, Buck. You know that they're probably trying to find out what evidence she has, the defence plans for both of us, and any other information that could derail their plans."

Bucky nodded. "Obviously. Vadik says that he has never experienced such relentless attempts to spy on one of his clients. I think that we have to plan for the possibility that some tracking device will get through and record information before one of the team find it. Is Mary-Claire following additional security procedures when discussing her famous 'plan' or our defence?"

"I think so, but I will talk to her about it."

Bucky turned back to Vadik and explained what Steve had said. Then, after the man replied with morose fatalism, Bucky faced Steve and said, "Next issue: based on their surveillance of the SAS personnel, Vadik and Gleb both think that Mary-Claire is at real risk during the flight to New York."

"S***. Ok, how many people do they think we need to add to the security team?"

"That depends if you want our wives' security teams to coordinate."

"Ok, that seems reasonable, since they'll be together, right?"

"For the most part, yes. I am bringing three people on board for Thea and the children. That puts us at 6 total, which should be enough if they work together. I do not want to rely on any of the US or UK security forces, in fact I prefer to have a solid buffer between them and our families. Gleb has sourced two women who are former spetsnaz, who work as nannies. Between them and one additional bodyguard, the children should have decent coverage. We can have two of the other three personnel on Mary-Claire and Thea at all times with one two rotating off every 8 hours."

"Holy heck, Buck. Really?"

"We can hire more, pal, but at a certain size the entourage becomes a security concern in itself. We need mobile, highly trained and specialised, and absolutely outside of the US-UK establishment. All of these personnel are Russian mercenaries, which means they know the Winter Soldier."

Steve stared at Bucky for a moment and then said gruffly, "I hadn't thought of that being a thing."

"I know, Steve, but I have to. For those who grew up under Soviet rule, I was a ghost story scary enough to frighten even spetsnaz types. There aren't many places where that comes in useful, but this is one of them."

"You know that I trust you, Buck. What you're saying makes sense, so let's go ahead. So, you have all the people selected for all this?"

"Yes, so if you're satisfied then I'll tell Gleb to go ahead. Most of them can arrive by tomorrow at the latest."

Steve sighed with relief. "Ok. Good."

Bucky explained to Vadik what Steve had said and then took the Faraday box with the various trackers and bugs that Vadik handed him. "Mary-Claire needs to keep all of these. At the right point, this will be useful."

As Vadik stalked out of the room, Steve asked tensely, "So, what's the other problem?"

"As you know, I asked Gleb to place some of our own surveillance in a few key places. Unfortunately, from what I have gleaned, they are planning to place us at Riker's."

Steve gasped. He had heard enough of Riker's Island as a child to be genuinely shaken at the thought of being interned there. "But not in the general population."

"No. They have two specialised cells for Enhanced."

"Well…at least we'll be together, Buck."

Bucky frowned. "Yeah, we will, but I think that we need to prepare ourselves, Steve. It is going to be bad."

"Ok. OK, well…we can't change it, Buck. If I have to endure that for a few months so I can get back to my family, then I will."

"Steve, I don't wanna be the one that rains on your parade, but you ain't never been a prisoner before. Not for real. Wakanda's embassy was nothin' compared to what is probably waiting. You gotta prepare yourself for a total lack of privacy, no ability to make even the smallest decision, constant absence of dignity, and the removal of any autonomy regarding even the smallest, most petty things. I'm sayin' that you need to fight out your indignation and get yourself into a place of calm, humble acceptance NOW. It's gotta be now, so you aren't gonna make any stupid, emotional mistakes then. Here you've got me and you've got Mary-Claire and the boys, so you got your family grounding you. Do you understand what I'm trying to say? This is not something you can punch, negotiate, or charm your way out of."

Steve stumbled a few steps back from Bucky and stared at him with obvious hurt, as he replied in a thick, emotional voice, "Bucky, I am not pretending that this is going to be easy. I'm prepared for it to be awful, in fact. It's just what we have to do."

However, Bucky moved right into Steve's space and put a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "No, pal, you aren't prepared. I know you, ok? I have never questioned, not in all the decades that I've known Steve Rogers whether you're bravely ready to jump directly into the fires of h*ll. You can take the beatings and that kind of s*** just as well as I can. But you crumble inside when you are treated like less than a person."

"Buck…"

Bucky's expression was grim as he shook his head and insisted firmly, "Just lemme finish, ok?" He waited to see whether Steve was going to listen properly and, when Steve nodded, Bucky continued, "Before the war, back in Brooklyn, you got angry when they made fun of your health or your size or our poverty, but you weren't ever ashamed or nothin'. It just made you fight harder to prove them wrong about what you could do. However, unfair prejudice was the one thing that drove you crazy. I literally had to pin your arms behind your back that time when we were playin' ball on that old lot near elevated line and Peter Waters called you a mackerel snapper as he pantomimed a priest giving a blessing at you, me, and Joe Lucci. And you were ready to wage an almighty war when old Mr Baccaloni wouldn't hire Jack in his store just because he didn't like us Irish. I thought you were gonna burn the place down you were so mad, Steve. But we both knew that there wasn't any way to fight that kind of ignorance. We _were_ Irish and we _were_ Catholic, yet that had nothing to do with who we were as men. It was just unfair and that killed you. That's what's gonna happen here, Steve. They're gonna call you a traitor. They will accuse you of all kind of s*** for helping me. What happened with that guard in the Wakandan embassy will be _nothing_ compared to this. Trust me. They will be petty. They will be vile. They will be monstrous. All of that. And you will be completely powerless."

Steve shoved both his hands in his still long hair and moaned. "Bucky, I know that you're right. I do. But I can do this. I have to do this. If I don't, then I won't ever get to hold my children again. And I could make it worse for your case if I lash out, too. I can keep my temper in check. I promise."

"S***, Steve, I know that you _can_ , Steve. You just need to be mentally prepared, so you aren't thrown into shock by all of it and act before you think."

"Yeah. Yeah, ok. I get it."

"Good. That is what I was sayin'. We both know that you can do this. Just brace yourself before we go. It will be s***, but we will get through it just like we always do."

Steve choked out a miserable laugh. "Yeah. Ok, Buck. Lucky us."

"Well, y'know, we may have s*** luck, but I'd rather be us than a f***in' dirtbag like Waters was."

"Jeez, Buck. I cannot believe that you remember him. I'd seriously forgotten."

Bucky grimaced. "I never was good a forgivin' and forgettin' the stupid s***s who useta make your life h*ll, pal. Back then I had a long list of names of guys that were permanently f***ed as far as I was concerned."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Steve groaned. "Well, Buck, looks ike now I'm the one with the list and HYDRA is just a small portion of it."

"Hey, life's grand, Steve. What can I say?"

"Jeez, you jerk. Wanna go get somethin' to eat? 'Cause I feel like the inside of my stomach is stuck together."

"Nice image. Thanks, buddy." Bucky knocked shoulders with Steve before he wrapped an arm around his friend and directed them towards the door. Just as they reached the hallway, Bucky shoved him with one hand and muttered with a smirk, "Punk."

* * *

Something was off with Bucky. He'd seen it…seen when Bucky's entire demeanour shifted. He did not know what it was, but something was absolutely wrong.

He'd spent the last two hours in silence, as ordered by the soldiers responsible for transporting them. During that time, he had observed the various interactions of the guards, as well as the officer in command. He was pretty certain that they weren't HYDRA. But, of his private worries and the concerns for which he and Bucky had planned, HYDRA was surprisingly low in priority. Honestly, he felt that there were significantly greater threats at the moment and…well…he didn't know what was going on here despite having tried to analyse his observations. It was time to try to talk to Bucky.

Steve whispered so quietly that no one without a super soldier's hearing could have understood, "Buck."

However, Bucky didn't reply. Instead, he tilted his right hand just enough to tap out a dash, dot, dash, dash. Surprised, Steve recognised the Morse Code for Y. Yes. Yeah. Something was WRONG.

"Are you hurt?"

Dash dot. N. So…not hurt. Okay…

Steve worked to control his volume and barely moved his mouth as he asked, "Worried?"

Dash, dot, dash, dash.

Yes? Bucky never admitted to being worried, so he must be _very_ concerned. His heart pounding, Steve frowned and replied, "We'll be ok, Buck."

Dash dot.

No…no, meaning he didn't think they would be ok? Was Bucky having trouble with all the meds that they'd pumped him full of that morning? Was he losing touch with reality again? Or was he just worried? Steve muttered almost inaudibly, "Mary-Claire says we got a really good case for you. It's mine that's harder."

There was a long pause and then Bucky jerked his head slightly, as if in pain, then his fingers tapped quite urgently: DASH DOT.

No? What was he saying no to? Was he worried about Steve's case or his own or an entirely different thing? D*** this. "Did they say something that got you worried?"

Immediately, Bucky's body froze and he was so still that even Steve could not hear him breath for a full minute. Finally, Bucky tapped with his pinkie: Dash, dot, dash, dash.

Steve stiffened as he realised that Bucky must actually terrified about something that had been said or done to him between the time that they had surrendered for transport and then. They had been apart for nearly 30 minutes before boarding, during which time almost anything could have been done to Bucky. Steve had already been deeply concerned about that time away, but he had not expected worse than what had already been done in Switzerland or Britain. Sometimes, he really was as naive as Bucky always said: too willing to hope for the best in people.

Yet, before Steve could say anything further, the firm footsteps of Master Sergeant Biggleston and Corporal Li approached rapidly from behind. The two soldiers stopped in front of the hold where Steve and Bucky were being kept several feet apart on metal chairs with an astounding number of chains and straps binding each of them.

"Time for a security check, chaps. I think we shall start with the Winter Soldier first, Li."

The corporal used the pole in his hand to poke and pull at each of Bucky's restraints from far enough away that Bucky was not even within two arms' lengths of him. The young soldier used the hooked end of the pole to run along each of Bucky's limbs and then began aggressively prodding at him until—overwhelmed with anger—Steve suddenly growled, "Leave 'im alone. He's cooperating."

Waving Li on to start prodding Steve, Biggleston stepped closer to Steve and replied gruffly, "It doesn't mean anything that he is cooperating, you know. Criminals and monsters like him often play along until we let our guard down, Colonel Rogers. I don't intend to put any of the men on this plane at risk by coddling either of you. You have both proven yourselves quite capable of escaping every enclosure and restraint that has ever been used on you, but your mate here is _especially_ notorious."

At that moment, Steve noticed the preternatural stillness of Bucky beside him—beyond even that which might be expected of one of the greatest snipers in history—and Steve's breathing quickened as he tried to figure out what was had made Bucky shut down even further. Yet, Steve had forgotten how deeply attuned to him Bucky always had been. Although Steve could barely see Bucky's face since his own head was held firmly under two straps and a bar, he knew from the change in sound that Bucky was attempting to mask his own panicked breathing. Angry at himself for making things worse, Steve immediately tried to calm his own physiological response, so Bucky would stop panicking.

Turning from Steve to see what was going on with Bucky, Biggleston demanded, "Oi! Something wrong here, Winter Soldier?"

Biggleston's voice was sharp and his posture indicated his alarm, but Steve did not think that his concern stemmed from the same source as Steve's. As far as Steve could tell, Bucky's breathing seemed to have actually _stopped_. Although he knew that Biggleston or Li would likely intervene immediately if they saw Bucky was in physical distress, his own panic was now so severe that Steve made such a desperate attempt to turn himself that the bar holding his head in place creaked loudly.

In response, two other guards rushed forwards and began prodding Steve repeatedly with electric shockers on poles, as they shouted, "Don't move! Stay still! Stay still!"

When they finally stopped jabbing him with the stunners, Steve clenched his teeth in pain, as he growled, "Zap me again and I'll actually pop these restraints so I can punch you both in the face. Honestly, it is actually taking an effort NOT to break 'em, since it would be as easy as tearin' wet paper. So, I'm genuinely tryin' to comply. All I wanna do is see what's happening with my friend. Now, what's wrong with Bucky?"

The two guards both raised their sticks again and the shorter of the two started to poke it at Steve, when Biggleston commanded sharply, "Put the sticks down, you cheese-brained numpties. You had no business to shock Rogers without first issuing a warning, since he wasn't doing anything but turning his head. Now step back or I'll put you both on report."

His eyes still wild, Steve demanded, "Biggleston, what's wrong with Bucky?"

"Rogers, you're not in charge here, so you don't give the orders. You need to calm down or I will have to sedate you."

It was almost beyond his ability to keep himself from breaking the restraints and turning so he could both see Bucky and lash out at Biggleston. "I am calm enough and I am asking a legitimate question. I need to know what's wrong with my best friend, sergeant."

Sighing angrily, Biggleston replied sourly, "The Winter Soldier is fine. He's just gone quiet. In fact, he's not making half the noise that you are, Colonel Rogers, which means he is complying. They warned your mate what would happen if he made a noise and it looks as if he's taken that to heart. Perhaps you should follow his example."

Steve's face shifted into a truly menacing grimace, as he trained his eyes firmly on Biggleston. His voice dropped and he demanded dangerously, "They did what?"

Li spoke up with a snigger. "Command told the animal there that he wasn't to make a single noise during the flight and that if they saw him even move other than to blink or breathe, he'd be separated from you and put on ice until the court-martial begins. He's a mass murderer, not some war hero like you want him to be. We can't be expected to let him have free reign or we'd all be dead before we got to America to deliver you lot."

His expression darkened into complete fury as Steve looked from Li over to Biggleston for confirmation or denial. When no denial was forthcoming, Steve furiously snarled, "In other words, you threatened to treat him like HYDRA did."

Biggleston stepped up and put his face right in front of Steve and hissed, "Repeat that. I dare you."

"Your corporal just told me that Bucky is not allowed to make _any_ sound. That he is not to move, which is why he's even masking the sound of his breathing so you won't see or hear him move. Apparently, they told Bucky that if he stepped outside of these parameters—which even a sneeze would violate—he'd be taken away from me and frozen, like HYDRA did. Is that normal protocol?"

Although he did not reply, Biggleston kept his gaze evenly on Steve with no appearance of discomfort or guilt.

Now frowning furiously, Steve continued, "Your doctors already amputated his new left arm—which was surgically attached and not just a prosthesis. Then, just like HYDRA, your doctors are now drugging Bucky. They've poked that IV drip of anti-psychotics, muscle relaxants, suppressants, and tranquilisers into him, despite the psychiatrists' warnings that he should not be given drugs like that."

Clearly not bothered by Bucky's treatment, Biggleston shrugged with utter unconcern. "None of that was up to me. The arm was removed because it is a weapon. The medications are necessary to keep him from freaking out and killing everyone here. I'm not going to apologise for any of that."

His righteous anger flaming even brighter, Steve insisted, "Bucky had two years since escaping from HYDRA without freaking out and killing anyone until a Sokovian operative _intentionally_ activated him when he was under UN custody. Purposefully injecting Bucky with these drugs could actually cause problems because he can't think clearly with them, but they are unlikely to actually help with a thing."

Corporal Li sniggered again, which earned him a glare from Biggleston. Not looking particularly sorry, Li muttered, "Sorry, sir."

"Is there something amusing here that you'd like to point out, corporal?"

"Erm, no, sir." Corporal Li looked away, but he was clearly still struggling to compose himself.

"Then, join Wiggins at the back of the plane. I don't want to see your face for the duration of the flight. Send Ghorbani up here with Morran."

Li nodded. "Yes, sir."

Biggleston glared down at Steve, but said more quietly, "I cannot change the orders, colonel. I know they say your mate was a POW and brainwashed. But he killed dozens at least. The truth is, the Winter Soldier is a HYDRA assassin. He's not safe. If I cannot count on your cooperation, then I'll have to sedate you both."

Steve shook his head. The man's intolerance was infuriating. "Do you know how easy it would be for Buck and I to break these restraints if we wanted? We are actually _trying_ to stay in them. We _are_ complying."

At that moment, Steve noticed a flash of emotion pass over Biggleston's face. Just as quickly, it disappeared, however the sergeant said sharply, "Just don't make waves, colonel. They want to make an example of you both. You know that, right?"

Both exasperated and furious, Steve insisted, "Of course, I do, but I cannot change their intentions, Biggleston. Buck and I have done every single thing that they have asked of us. Every d*** thing, even the most outrageous of requests."

With a quick look in the direction of where the two officers were sitting, Biggleston said gruffly, "Honestly, I just don't want trouble, captain. If your mate is quiet, I don't care if he wiggles his fingers or sneezes."

"Is he allowed to talk?"

There was a pause, as Biggleston looked at Steve and then back towards his commander. Then, his voice dropped to just above a mutter and he said, "Don't push it. If those two fools with the charge sticks over there can hear, then it is too loud."

"He's not going to be put in cryofreeze if he breathes too loud?"

Obviously annoyed, Biggleston scoffed. "No one is threatening to freeze anyone, colonel."

Steve looked over at Bucky, who was frozen in place and clearly extremely distressed. "Why don't you ask Bucky what they threatened, sergeant?"

"I don't need to talk to the Winter Soldier."

"Why not?"

Turning angrily towards Bucky, Biggleston demanded sarcastically, "Alright, Winter Soldier, repeat to me precisely what your orders were when they loaded you onto the plane."

Bucky took a deep breath and then recited in his quiet, gravelly voice. "Master Sergeant James Barnes, due to the immense threat you represent to all those around you, you will be bound with specialised head, chest, abdomen, thigh, and ankle restraints in addition to standard shackles during your transport from this facility to the Enhanced Prisoner facility on Rikers Island, New York for your court-martial proceedings. SGT Barnes, you are not permitted to communicate with anyone other than the military personnel in charge of your transfer on penalty of significant punishment to be determined by those personnel. Although your left arm has already been pre-emptively removed, your other enhancements will also be suppressed to reduce your ability to harm those around you. To this aim, you will be administered five medications through an IV drip in your remaining arm, which will not be discontinued for any reason during transport."

Bucky winced as if in intense pain, but took a breath and continued, "Furthermore, SGT Barnes, for the duration of this flight, you are to remain silent—making no sound louder than 30 dB. Any sound above this range will result in the temporary implant behind your left ear making a sustained, punitive tone with a frequency of 35 kHz until you are silent. Additionally, SGT Barnes, you shall remain as motionless as possible—since any significant movement will cause a current to pass through the restraints on your wrist, thighs, and ankles until said motion ceases. At any time during your transport, if it is determined that you have disobeyed orders, you can expect severe and immediate reprisals. Lastly, any infraction, regardless of duration or size, shall result in you being sent to cryofreeze storage until your trial, a permanent separation from Colonel Steven G. Rogers a/k/a Captain America, severing of any rights to see your children, and charges being laid against your wife, Theodora Arnwell Barnes, for child endangerment and knowingly aiding a fugitive."

There was a moment in which Steve could see the disgust that Biggleston felt at hearing the extent of Bucky's condition described, but it disappeared so quickly that Steve would not have noticed it if he weren't closely watching. Finally, Biggleston grunted. "S***. Alright. Ok. You can talk to him, Rogers. Just…just be quiet about it."

Steve asked tightly, "And can he reply?"

The sergeant frowned. "Sounds like he doesn't have a choice. They'll play some dog whistle or whatever in his ear, apparently."

"He can tap out a message to me."

Turning away and marching angrily towards the back of the plane, Biggleston muttered, "Yeah. Fine. Never thought I'd see the day that I felt sorry for the d*** Winter Soldier."

Steve sighed with relief and whispered, "Buck, are you ok?"

Dash, dot, dash, dash. (Y)

His hands relaxed and Steve asked, "That wasn't all they told you, was it?"

Dash, dot. (N)

"Are we going to be met with a s*** storm at the end of this?"

A very fervent reply was almost instant: Dash, dot, dash, dash. (Y) It was then repeated twice more.

"Ok. Whatever it is, Buck, we'll deal with it. This is not the end of the line. We aren't there yet. This isn't the end of the line."

There was a long pause, then Steve heard a gasping breath that was almost a sob, then Bucky tapped out a very faint: dash, dot, dash, dash.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Thea looked up from the book that she had been pretending to read for the past thirty minutes and said wryly, "Is it just me or have we joined a bizarre sort of travelling circus?"

Laughing in spite of herself, Mary-Claire replied, "Definitely. Two very petite women with no self-defence skills to speak of and four children under the age of three are hardly in need of this much supervision."

"Supervision. That is one word for it. We cannot even have regular nannies now. No, we have to have former spetsnaz to care for the children. I wonder where they keep their knives, don't you? In beside the nappies, likely as not. I hate this."

Mary-Claire grimaced. "Yes, but our last nanny was killed, you know. I have no doubts that these women would at least be able to defend themselves, in addition to the children. Sadly, that is the reality in which we find ourselves now, Thea. And then we have the Russian doom and gloom squad who are here to protect us from the soldiers. Of course, the soldiers are here to protect…well, I'm never quite sure if it is us or the rest of the world from us?"

"I don't think they are here to protect anything, Mary-Claire. They are here to enforce. If we seem as if we are thinking about not following whatever the latest requirement is, then the soldiers will make certain that we reconsider our options. I believe that Yasha was very clear with Vadik about what to do if it comes to that."

"I'm certain that he was, but I am not going to a part of some ridiculous battle royale. We _are_ going to do whatever it is that we have to do to be there for Bucky and Steve, aren't we? We do still agree on this, don't we?"

Reaching out and patting her friend's arm, Thea replied with a sad smile, "Absolutely, dear. Yasha never does stop to consider that I'd rather stay with him under adverse conditions than live without him in the utter lap of luxury. It isn't as if I haven't been given multiple opportunities to take my children and return home to England with all rights and privileges returned and once even offered for a respectable fortune added to my bank accounts."

Mary-Claire nodded. "Bucky does seem incredibly determined to assume that you can't possibly love him like he does you. For everyone other than him, it is easy enough to see that, fortunately, he is quite wrong on that."

"That he is, but he isn't able to accept that yet. As frustrating as he can be, I do understand why he is this way. I don't think that Steve has any confusion on that point regarding you though, does he?"

"He'd better not! If he doesn't know how crazy I am about him by now, then he's dumber than a pile of dirt and blinder than a one-eyed bat."

Thea laughed. "I don't think that Steve is the slightest bit unintelligent, so we shan't worry about that. Just look round though, Mary-Claire. What on earth is going to happen when we get to New York? I really hope that no one gives Seryozha an opportunity to test out whatever weapon he strapped to his back there. I don't think that it would take much. Of all the men, he is most obviously afraid of upsetting Yasha."

"Maybe, but Vadik is the most devoted of the group and he looks bored enough to be willing to use any excuse to take offence on behalf of his beloved _Starshina Soldat_."

Looking warily over at Vadik, Thea muttered, "Oh dear." Then she glanced at both Gleb and Kostya and said, "Goodness. You are right. I think that I might need to intervene a bit." Then she looked at Mary-Claire with surprise and added, "You caught on to their new title for him, did you? It startled Yasha the first time that he heard it, but he's so pleased that he never corrected them. Of course, he always refers to himself as _Zimniy Soldat_ when he talks to them."

Mary-Claire nodded sharply. "I wouldn't have noticed, but Steve mentioned it. He told me that Bucky intentionally played on his terrifying reputation in choosing only Russian mercenaries, in addition to his belief that they're better trained than most. But Bucky also told Steve that he never imagined that they'd have any loyalty to him _personally_."

"How very like him. Yasha just cannot see how special he really is, unfortunately. Thank goodness I am not alone. I do think that I ought to speak with Vadik, perhaps. Don't you?"

"I do. He looks twitchy."

Sighing exhaustedly and then smoothing out her dress, Thea turned towards Vadik and said succinctly, "Вадик, ты думаешь, что сможешь прийти и поговорить с нами кратко? (Vadik, do you think that you could come over and speak with us briefly?)"

The dour man quickly moved over to Thea's side and replied, "Да, конечно Феодора Вильяминовна. Чем я могу вам помочь? (Yes, of course, Theodora Vil'yamnova. How can I help you?)"

Smiling sweetly up at Vadik, Theodora replied in a very soft, girlish voice, "Поскольку она нервничала, я объясняла Мэри-Клэр, как сильно мой муж доверяет твоя команда чтобы мы были в безопасности. (Since she has been feeling nervous, I have been explaining to Mary-Claire how much my husband trusts your team to keep us safe.)"

Vadik straightened his spine and held his shoulders stiffly, as if at attention, clearly showing his pleasure in the compliment. He replied gruffly, "Спасибо, Феодора Вильяминовна. Старшина Солдат и Капитан Америка сделали очень тщательные планы. Все мы полны решимости. Ваши семьи будут в безопасности. (Thank you, Theodora Vil'yamnova. Senior Sergeant _Soldat_ and Captain America have made very thorough plans. All of us are determined. Your families will be secure.)"

Thea looked down at her lap, as if embarrassed, and then said demurely, "Спасибо, Вадик. Я знаю, что могу положиться на тебя, так как мой муж сказал так. (Thank you, Vadik. I know that I can rely on you, since my husband has said so.)"

Vadik nodded complacently. "Спасибо, Феодора Вильяминовна. (Thank you, Theodora Vil'yamnova.)"

Next, Thea glanced over at Mary-Claire and then again and Vadik as she asked, "Разве это сильно расстроило бы твои планы, если бы один из мужчин остался рядом с Мэри-Клэр? Я просто думаю, что так она будет чувствовать себя в большей безопасности. (Would it upset your plans very much if you had one of the men stay near Mary-Claire? I just think that she'll feel safer that way.)"

Shrugging heavily, as if being handed a horrible burden that he would be willing to bear for honour alone, Vadik answered seriously, "Я могу сделать это, если хотите. (I can do that, if you would like.)"

As if she were very flustered, Thea replied, "Это повлияет на план моего мужа? Естественно, я никогда не хотел бы отклоняться от плана Зимнего Солдата. (Wouldn't tying you to our side dangerously risk my husband's plan, however? Naturally, I would never want to deviate from the Winter Soldier's plan.)"

Vadik was unable to hide his relief, as he frowned in the direction of Seryozha and then said glumly, "Вы правы. Возможно Глеб или Сережа тогда. Их роли не сильно пострадают. (You are correct. Perhaps Gleb or Seryozha then. Their roles would not be much affected.)

With a warm, flattering smile at Vadik, Thea answered softly, "Я доверяю тебе, Вадик. Спасибо. (I trust you, Vadik. Thank you.)"

With clear approval at her attitude, Vadik bowed slightly and said, "Пожалуйста, Феодора Вильяминовна. (You are welcome, Theodora Vil'yamovna.)

As soon as Vadik had moved back to their other bodyguards to explain the situation, Thea looked back and Mary-Claire and winked.

Nodding with approval, Mary-Claire whispered, "Good job."

* * *

His senses started to come back to him piecemeal: first, via a strange series of clicks and tinny clangs, his hearing; then a burning, throbbing awareness of his arms and legs; and finally, his vision as he attempted to slowly open his eyes and was met by a glare from multiple surgical lights powerful enough that it was nearly impossible to see more than the wall beside him. The location in his neck where he'd been injected was still sore, but he no longer felt the intense burning in his veins from whatever drug he had been given. He was still physically incapable of getting up or defending himself in anyway. As best Steve could determine, he was sprawled across the floor of some sort of medical office.

It was strange, honestly, as he had expected they would move Bucky and him into isolated cells where they could more easily be tortured away from prying eyes and ears. This room seemed to be a strange place to choose, although Steve didn't have any foolish notions that he was going to avoid an 'enhanced' interrogation just because they'd brought him to a location that was unlikely to be soundproofed. Regardless of Bucky's concerns of his naivete, Steve was quite prepared for the horror of what lay ahead of him—even though he was dreading it with a terror that was difficult to mask.

Steve did not know what nightmare they had in store for him, in fact, as he was _already_ struggling to keep his focus off the pain from numerous large welts across his legs and chest that must have been burnt into his skin whilst he was unconscious, in order to better torture Bucky. Whoever the people were that had paid for Bucky and him to be interrogated here, they had sufficient intel to know that the best way to hurt Bucky was to harm the people he loves. Initially, Steve had not expected that degree of cleverness, but, as usual, Bucky had predicted exactly this scenario during their planning back at Arnwell. For perhaps the thousandth time, Steve silently uttered a torrent of curses onto the heads of those who were responsible for his best friend's innate, empirical personal understanding of the wide range of human torture.

"I will be with you in a moment, Mr Rogers. You have excellent timing, in fact. That secondary dose was just sufficient to keep you on ice until I was ready, wasn't it? And, despite my initial misgivings, the dosage of the paralytic appears to have been sufficient. You see, I have only just finished with Mr Barnes and it would have been most inconvenient to have you awaken too soon or be able to move those so famously powerful arms. This is most satisfactory, I must say. Now, I only need to finish resetting all of my equipment and then we shall begin."

Steve did not acknowledge the man's words. Bucky's admonitions were still fresh in his ears: reply only to questions and then with just his name, rank, and serial number. His eyes had now become slightly accustomed to the brightness of the lights that were directed onto the floor where he'd been placed. Therefore, he let his eyes roam the walls of the room, searching for both information and anything that he could use as a mental distraction once his own interrogation began. Unfortunately, the walls contained little on which he could focus, so he closed his eyes briefly to mentally compose himself. As every stitch of his clothing had been removed, the heat from the lamps was uncomfortable enough even on his undamaged skin, but it was actually baking the burns so he could feel each one independently and yet jointly as if they were joined into a body-wide, throbbing message: Do Not Give In. Do Not Forget.

Finally, he returned to perusing the bland room and, as he read the certificates behind the large desk that had been turned into a makeshift instrument bench for the torturer, Steve realised that he must be in the private office of the prison's chief doctor. Yet, he was quite confident that the very pale, blond man in front of him was not Dr Kenwarpreet Singh Brar. Precisely who the man was didn't really matter. The name of the person who was going to make his life a temporary burden to him was far less important than the fact that Steve could see with relief that the man had not succeeded with Bucky. The man's body language shouted anger and…interestingly…fear. So, that meant that They (Ross? HYDRA? Some other entity?) would not win if only Steve could be strong enough to last.

That was fine. It would be ok then, since Steve was never going to be tricked into giving away anything other than what he and Bucky had planned for him to say. The _good_ thing about his enhanced body was that he could withstand significant torture without risk of permanent injury. Steve clenched his teeth as the man picked up a nasty, hooked looking device and walked towards him. (The worst thing about his enhanced body, however, was that he could withstand _significant_ torture without risk of permanent injury.) He could do this. He could do this. Everything was at stake. He could not fail them now.

* * *

"Steve?"

He heard Bucky's tremulous query and immediately tried to sit up to face his friend.

As Steve involuntarily made a sound of deep pain, Bucky called out anxiously, "Careful, pal, they really did a number on you. You need to rest some more."

Several moments later, Steve had managed to haul himself into the upright position and was perched on the edge of the bed, as he asked worriedly, "You ok, Buck?"

Bucky's voice was low and angry as he muttered, "I will be anyway. That f***er didn't want to do enough damage to risk any serious injury. Apparently, the Army has 'concerns' about retaliation before the court-martial can be completed, so they got a medic and shrink comin' to check on me daily. So, from the outside, at least, I will look fine when the Army reps show up again tomorrow."

Groaning slightly as he made an inadvisable movement, causing his spine to scream in agony at him, Steve managed to reply, "Not sure I can say the same." Then he asked, "Wait, what do you mean 'again'? How long have I been out?"

Bucky frowned angrily. "Three days. They kept you in the infirmary. The guards were in such a panic about how torn up you were that they forgot not to talk where I couldn't listen in. Apparently, Dr Helgar didn't wanna stop working on you, since he had guaranteed success to his superiors. And, from what I could overhear, the Army ain't comin' to watch over you like they are me. They don't think there is any risk to Captain America, apparently. F***in' idiots still don't get it."

"S***." Steve gasped in pain, as the row of incisions along his backbone had not yet healed enough to permit him to move as quickly as he had tried to do. He took several shallow breaths and then managed to say thickly, "I guess that means that bastard is going to be given another opportunity."

"No, I don't think so, Steve." Bucky was looking at him with agony-filled eyes as he explained further, "Helgar was screaming like a caged animal at the two prison officials who finally intervened. I've heard that tone of voice enough times to know that Helgar was terrified of what his failure meant for him. Not sure, but I have to guess that Helgar thinks that Ross isn't going to be able to pay off enough people to arrange a second chance for him to try. Getting this slipped in before we were fully processed was one thing. Now that we are in the system and being more carefully monitored, well, that's different. Not sure what is going to happen to Helgar, but from the degree of fear I heard, death is the nicer option."

"I wish that I still had faith enough to believe that." Steve rubbed his hands over the remnants of the burn welts that crisscrossed his torso. "However, every time that I hope that things are going to be fair and reasonable, that faith gets rent, crushed, burned, and drowned until I wonder why I keep allowing myself to have hope in the first place. I'm tired of this, Buck. Just so tired." Steve had to look away from Bucky, since he could see that his own condition was causing his friend intense pain. "We surrendered ourselves in good faith. We've complied with every reasonable _and_ unreasonable _and_ outrageous request that they've asked of us. Why do they need to treat us worse than dogs, too?"

Bucky cleared his throat and leant back into the cinderblock wall behind him, as he replied, "Because they hate us. It's that simple, Steve. They're afraid of what we are capable of doing. It don't have a d*** thing to do with laws and justice. They don't care that the Sokovia Accords have been suspended. It doesn't matter to them that HYDRA's trigger words have all been removed from my brain. They wanna make an example of us, so other enhanced—just like the mutants—know their place because we scare them now that they realise we have our own minds. There were a lot of people who grew up thinking of Captain America like some kind of mythological, perfect hero, Steve. They don't like being reminded that you're a man and they definitely don't like the reality that the Winter Soldier is a human either."

"Maybe. I don't know, Bucky." Steve sank back down onto the mattress and groaned in pain. Neither of them talked for almost ten minutes, as Steve kept his eyes closed and tried to find some semblance of his usual self-control. "Buck, you know that I agreed to Dr Erskine's experiment because I wanted to do _good_. I wanted to help my country and protect people who couldn't help themselves. But…now, I'm supposed to apologise for doing just that. It doesn't make any sense, Buck."

Steve could just hear Bucky quietly reply in his sad, deep voice, "No, it doesn't, pal. And it isn't fair, no matter what bulls*** they try to sell us. But this isn't the end, remember? You gotta stay with me, Steve. You got that?"

"I know. I know. It's just that I'm just so d*** tired. The last few years, it seems like everything I do gets turned on its head. And every time that I get something good, someone tries to rip it away. Do you know that the longest time that I have ever had with my boys was when we were staying at Arnwell, as we waited to be transported here to Rikers'?"

"I'm sorry, Steve. It isn't right, I know that. Especially as I got to be there with Jamie for his first year. There isn't anything fair about any of this. Unlike you, I never agreed to the serum that HYDRA gave me when I was captured. Or to anything they did afterwards to make me into their f***in' murder slave. But my lack of consent isn't enough to make people care, right?"

Steve snorted and then growled, "No."

"So, the only people to whom I am a human and not either a slave or a monster are you, Thea, and your wife. But s***, Steve, that is three more than I had on my side for seven decades. And you're _still_ Captain America, pal. People do believe in you."

"No, Bucky, I _was_ Captain America. Now, I'm just a disgraced _former_ war hero. S***, Buck, did you see that some of the press was even pissed off to know that I'm not actually a captain anymore? Did they think that I wouldn't progress in rank for all this time? Apparently, I was misleading everyone by still calling myself captain, since they couldn't figure out that Captain America was my job, not my name. Regardless, now I'm just Colonel Rogers, liar and accused traitor."

Bucky made a noise of genuine anger and said fiercely, "Aw sez you, Rogers. What's with the f***in' pity party you're throwin' over there? So what if the press made an ignorant story out of your rank? That just shows you how hard they had to work to find anything to criticise you about, since your character is untouchable. Anyone who doesn't know how POW/MIA promotions work can ask the d*** Pentagon. Your updated rank is even attached to your name on the Medal of Honour list, which is public enough for anyone, isn't it? S***, even HYDRA was aware of it, Steve."

Steve grunted with pain and sighed heavily. Gesturing angrily at his friend, Bucky continued, "Look, pal, Thaddeus Ross is a month-old half-digested piece of goat tripe. We know that he's out to get you because of his private agenda. But the thing about living s*** stains like him is that the stench eventually becomes noxious enough that they get taken out by the _other_ people in power who aren't willing to lose what they got just to save a t*rdface like him. Steve, Ross has lied to enough people about what has really been going on that he's not going to be able to save himself this time. People like heroes and they like a good redemption story, so the regular American people are gonna come down on your side."

Now sighing with less misery and more acceptance, Steve shrugged and said seriously, "Maybe. But I'm more worried about you, Buck. They gotta see that you're innocent of all this. It wasn't your fault."

"Look, we got plenty of evidence that I was a POW. We got proof of what they did to me. We can demonstrate that the trigger words were removed, so I'm not a threat anymore. They cannot forcibly wake the Winter Soldier, so I'm just Bucky Barnes now. Guess we gotta wait and see what that means, huh? No point in worryin' about it right now, Steve. You gotta give yourself a break from all this agony you're puttin' yourself through, ya know? No sense in doin' all the work for them and torturin' ourselves, pal."

"Yeah, I know. You're right. But I have to know, Buck, if you're really ok. They didn't do serious damage to you?"

"Not too bad, so I'm fine. I've had sessions with HYDRA torture experts that would make that piece of s*** that Ross hired look like Florence Nightingale. Looks like you're the one who got the brunt of it, Steve."

"Yeah." Steve shoved his fingers into his hair and smoothed it back, as he said quietly, "Helgar really didn't hold anything back. At first, it was just external, but then he realised that I wasn't caving like he'd expected and that was when he began the drugs and…" Steve's voice dropped as he muttered, "brought out the scalpel and an acid injector."

Bucky roared with fury and miserably explained, "S***. S***. That means Helgar was HYDRA trained, Steve, since they developed that particular treatment on me. Я буду срать на их похожие на пизду лица, а затем я выкопаю их глаза, которые я буду кормить их. Я желаю им всего того ада, который они навлекли на тебя."

Shocked at Bucky's desperate response—especially the enraged, ugly Russian curse—Steve made a point of calmly replying, "Look, Buck, it is ok now. I'll heal. It isn't a big shock that Helgar is HYDRA, is it? I don't think that Ross would care if he knew, as long as he got the info he wanted out of me. Hopefully, whoever is gonna take over my interrogation under the aegis of the prison isn't gonna try to repeat what Helgar did."

"Nah, it takes practice to perform that procedure and, unless you're enhanced like us, it is always fatal. HYDRA loved to remind me of that."

Steve groaned as he laid himself down on the mattress once more and said exhaustedly, "D***. Hate those guys."

"Me too, pal. F***. Me, too."

* * *

 _Note:_ Cтаршина (Starshina) is a senior enlisted rank that was introduced during the Soviet era. It has different meanings depending on the branch of service. In this case, the title is being used to designate the Winter Soldier as their leader, not just their boss.

 _In reply to my guest review:_ Unfortunately, I am fairly certain that Bucky would reply that he would be curious to know a few statistics comparing the White Sox to his beloved Dodgers. After a quick Google search (just because SOME super-soldiers don't know how to use the world wide interwebs, that doesn't mean ALL of us are luddites, Steven), he would probably be relieved to know that the White Sox have managed 3 WS titles, 6 AL pennants in their 120 years, compared to the Dodgers' 5 WS titles, 23 NL pennants in their 137 years. Naturally, this will just be proof positive to him that the Dodgers (despite having left the greatest place on G-d's green earth and moved to Cali-freakin-fornia) are still the greatest team in baseball. But then, Bucky would be the first to tell you that he's pretty much a world-class jerk, so I hope that you, dear reader, will forgive his unnecessarily competitive reply. Personally, I think he's nuts. My favourite team has only won 3 WS titles and 17 NL pennants in its 149 years, yet it is **_clearly_ **superior to the Dodgers, so what the heck does Bucky know about what makes a great team? :-)


End file.
